Chief Judge Zhao’s question had barely left his lips when he stepped forward, his imposing presence chilling the air around them. The hall grew silent. Ji Bozai’s expression darkened, his fingers twitching slightly, a silent warning of his growing displeasure.
“Bozai,” Prince Gong interjected smoothly, sensing the tension. His hand pressed lightly on Ji Bozai’s arm. “It’s just a few questions—there’s no need for punishment.”
To others, it might have been an ordinary inquiry, but to him, it was torment. His little girl was timid—she would surely be frightened to tears. And while he still drew breath, he would not allow anyone to make her cry. He was about to intervene when Ming Yi’s calm voice stopped him.
“The esteemed judge is fair in his investigations,” she said steadily, kneeling with grace. “I will naturally cooperate. Please, have a seat, my lord.”
Her poise was impeccable. Standing while interrogating her would have been a challenge to Ji Bozai’s authority, but sitting would make it seem no more than a civil discussion. The balance she struck was flawless—clever, composed, and respectful. Ji Bozai’s gaze softened, a glint of admiration flickering in his eyes.
Ming Yi gently touched his clenched hand beneath the table, as if urging him to calm down, then turned toward Chief Judge Zhao. “What questions do you have, my lord?”
The judge’s expression was unreadable. “Did you see Wei Hongfei and Zou Wancheng at the inner court banquet that day?”
“Of course,” she replied. “They were seated in the second row, to the left of the main hall.”
“Oh?” Zhao’s eyes narrowed. “Did you offer them a toast?”
Ming Yi gave a faint smile. “Surely, my lord knows the duty of a dancer. Naturally, I toasted every official present.”
“What time did you approach them?”
“There was no water clock in the hall, so I do not know the exact hour,” she said softly. “But when I went to them, both officials were chatting and appeared well.”
Chief Judge Zhao studied her closely, his gaze sharp as a blade. Ming Yi did not waver. Her calm defiance made his suspicion falter.
After a long silence, he declared, “You are the most suspicious.”
Yet her eyes held neither guilt nor fear.
Prince Gong broke the tension. “Suspicion alone cannot convict,” he said firmly. “Miss Ming’s background is clear. She has no ties to the Wuyou grass—she cannot be condemned.”
Chief Judge Zhao’s voice hardened. “There were over seventy dancers that night. Only Miss Ming hails from Yuan County, had toasted the deceased, and left the inner court unexamined. Half a month—ample time to craft a flawless lie.”
Ming Yi’s face flushed with indignation. “Then what, my lord? If you can’t find the real murderer, will you brand me as the scapegoat?”
Zhao’s glare could have cut stone. If not for Ji Bozai’s presence, he might have ordered her seized.
“I thought Lord Zhao was famed for his integrity,” she continued coldly. “But it seems you care more for appearances than truth. If not for these witnesses today, would you have forced a confession and called me the killer?”
The judge trembled with rage. To be chastised by a dancer! But Ji Bozai’s calm, steady gaze warned him to restrain himself.
“Watch your tongue,” Zhao snapped. “Slandering an official is punishable by the bone-scraping penalty.”
Ming Yi laughed bitterly. “If truth is slander, then your interrogation is entrapment. I owe Lord Ji my life and would not tarnish his name with false accusations. Please—investigate thoroughly before you speak.”
The hall fell silent. Her words, bold and sharp, cut through the arrogance that filled the air. She was Ji Bozai’s person now—any insult to her was an affront to him.
Ji Bozai’s lips curved faintly. Gently, he brushed his fingers through her hair. “If you are the murderer,” he said softly, “I won’t protect you. But if you are not—no one will dare wrong you while I live.”
Though his words seemed meant for her, they were a warning to the judge.
Prince Gong quickly stepped in, his voice warm. “This case is intricate—hardly Lord Zhao’s fault. Today is a celebration for my son’s hundredth day. Let’s not sour the mood.”
Laughter rippled through the room. “Yes, yes! Drink, my lords. No more talk of poison and death.”
The crowd shifted the topic, offering toasts. But Ming Yi’s anger simmered beneath her calm smile. She muttered into her cup, “So there were only seventy dancers that night, no one else? Why only question us? Do they think dancers are easier to bully?”
Yan Xiao chuckled softly. “Miss Ming, calm down. The poison—Wuyou grass—was found only in the inner court. Apart from you dancers, none could approach the officials. That’s why you were suspects.”
“Then how curious,” she said, setting her cup down. “If Wuyou grass exists only in the inner court, how could an outsider not have obtained it? And if we dancers could approach the officials, could they not also approach others? Did no one think to question them?”
Her words hung in the air. Even Chief Judge Zhao froze.
“Until evidence is certain,” she murmured, “anyone could be the murderer.”
Her tone was light, almost weary, but to Zhao, it was revelation. He stood abruptly.
“What now?” she exclaimed, instinctively shrinking into Ji Bozai’s embrace.
The judge raised his cup to her. “Your words are insightful, young lady. I apologize for my earlier offense.”
The onlookers exchanged bewildered glances.
“After discovering the poison,” Zhao explained, “I ruled out outsiders based on the pharmacy’s records. Miss Ming’s reasoning has given me a new path.”
Prince Gong smiled, eyes gleaming with approval. “Then Miss Ming has rendered a service. Bring her two boxes of the new rouge as thanks.”
Ming Yi’s eyes brightened, but before she could accept, she looked toward Ji Bozai.
He had been silent since her defense. Praise filled the room, yet his face remained unreadable—calm, distant.
Had she said something wrong?
The question lingered in her heart, as fragile as the thin porcelain cup between her fingers.
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