Whatever machinations unfolded in the Eastern Courtyard, Shen Miao had begun deliberately severing the threads that bound her to the Second and Third Branches. No longer did she trail after Shen Yue and Shen Qing like a devoted shadow.
At first, the Shen residence dismissed it as childish sulking over the drowning incident—a tantrum that would pass. But as Shen Miao continued making her own decisions in all matters, acting with unsettling independence, people began to sense something had fundamentally shifted.
Nanny Gui persisted with her usual advice, urging Shen Miao not to harbor resentment toward the Eastern Courtyard. Occasionally, she would weave indirect praise about Prince Ding being an unparalleled figure in all of Ming Qi. But Shen Miao had grown resolute—each time Nanny Gui dared mention that man's name, she received such sharp rebuke that the old woman developed quite the headache over it.
The Western Courtyard remained infiltrated with servants dispatched by the Second and Third Branches, many of them troublesome and disloyal. Guyu and the others had assumed that now Shen Miao had "awakened," she would naturally purge the household staff. Yet inexplicably, Shen Miao paid the matter no attention whatsoever.
Naturally, Shen Miao had her reasons.
These days, she attended Guangwen Hall with newfound diligence. Though people still regarded her as the academy's worst student, she felt no anger at their judgment. She simply focused on her own affairs each day. The more straightforward and uninteresting she appeared, the less attention she drew—and surprisingly, she found herself enjoying these peaceful, unremarkable days.
One morning, after the rhetoric class concluded, Shen Miao felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. She decided a walk through Guangwen Hall's garden might ease the sensation.
Though technically a school, Guangwen Hall occupied considerable grounds, divided into three levels—National One, National Two, and National Three. At fourteen, Shen Miao belonged to National Two, but her wandering feet unconsciously carried her toward the National One section.
There, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight: a small child perched on the stone steps, wiping away tears.
The boy appeared no more than eight years old, plump and fair-skinned. His somewhat excessive bulk made him resemble a round dumpling at first glance. He wore a dark blue robe embroidered with silver threads, small cloth boots, and a round collar encircling his neck. He looked precisely like a cherubic figure stepped out of a New Year's painting.
Shen Miao paused, then approached softly. "Why are you crying?"
The child, clearly not expecting anyone to address him, startled violently and tumbled from the steps with an audible thud. Yet he didn't cry from the fall—instead, he quickly sat up, staring at Shen Miao with wide, bewildered eyes.
Fair and plump, his eyes shone bright and alert beneath a small topknot. Traces of tears still glistened on his round cheeks, making him utterly endearing. Shen Miao couldn't help but release a soft laugh.
The child responded in a tender voice: "Sister."
That single word struck something deep within Shen Miao's chest. In her previous life, she had given birth to Wanyu and Fu Ming, but cruel fate had made her a hostage in Qin country until they reached five years old. By the time she returned, both children had already learned to address her properly as "Empress Mother"—formal, distant, as protocol demanded. Shen Miao had never witnessed what her two children looked like before the age of five, never heard them call her anything but her title.
This child before her, though eight years old, radiated such innocent ignorance of the world's cruelties. He reminded her achingly of what Wanyu and Fu Ming might have been like.
Shen Miao crouched down and gently patted his head. "Why are you crying?"
"The teacher asked me a question, and I couldn't answer." The child extended his palm, revealing angry red marks. His voice wavered pitifully. "So he struck my hand. It really hurts."
Wanting to tease him slightly, Shen Miao asked, "What question did your teacher ask?"
"He wanted me to write the four characters for 'when the rabbit dies, the fox mourns,' but I couldn't remember them." The child's face crumpled with dejection.
For a National One student of this age, inability to recall such basic characters was indeed somewhat unacceptable. Setting aside Shen Miao herself, Fu Ming at this boy's age had already begun learning statecraft—how to handle court affairs. Though merely practice, he could manage certain matters competently. While royal children often matured precociously, students at Guangwen Hall all hailed from noble families. They shouldn't have been so delayed in their education.
The child, apparently feeling his complaints insufficient, continued his mournful lament: "If Father discovers this when I return home, he'll surely punish me severely. What's the point of living? I might as well bash my head against something and die!"
Shen Miao felt caught between amusement and exasperation at the child's melodramatic tone. She wondered which family had produced this precious child, and where he'd learned such theatrical expressions. "Whose child are you?"
The child met Shen Miao's gaze. Though Shen Miao was only fourteen, with naturally youthful features that made her look scarcely older than this boy, she possessed an indefinable quality—as though she had weathered countless storms and could calm turbulent hearts with her mere presence. Even this child instinctively quieted at her question, reciting his lineage with careful precision.
"I am the second young master of the Pingnan Baron's family in the capital—Su Minglang. My father is Pingnan Baron Su Yu, and my elder brother is the heir to the Pingnan Baron, Su Mingfeng."
He rattled off his background as thoroughly as beans pouring from a split bamboo tube.
Shen Miao went utterly still.
The Su family. Pingnan Baron.
Whether in her previous life or this one, the Su family and Shen family shared no connection—they held opposing political positions at court. The Su family maintained a close relationship with the Xie family; Pingnan Baron Su Yu and Linan Marquis Xie Ding were sworn brothers, and Su Mingfeng and Xie Jingxing had been inseparable friends since childhood.
How close were they? Close enough that when Su Mingfeng died, only Xie Jingxing dared retrieve his body.
Yes. Su Mingfeng would die.
Or rather, the entire Su family would be exterminated.
The previous Emperor would uncover "evidence" that the Su family had embezzled funds and privately sold military horses. Once military matters became involved, there was naturally no room for mercy or leniency.
The imperial edict would arrive suddenly, brutally swift—no trial, no opportunity for defense. Simply an order dispatching troops to confiscate their property and execute them immediately on the spot. In broad daylight, the blood of the entire Su family would flow like rivers from the eastern district of Dingjing city all the way to the west.
By the time Xie Jingxing heard the news, it would already be too late. Not a single member of the Su family would survive. And among all their former friends and allies, not one person would dare step forward to help.
It was Xie Jingxing who personally collected the bodies of the Su family masters, risking his own neck to show such loyalty. Afterward, Xie Ding would request punishment from the previous Emperor, asking only that—considering the Su family's past contributions to Ming Qi—they be granted proper burial.
The previous Emperor granted this singular mercy. The Su family's funeral was handled entirely by the Xie family. Shen Miao remembered with painful clarity that when Shen Xin returned home during New Year and learned of this matter, he had sighed so deeply it seemed to come from his very soul.
The destruction of the Su family would occur in just two months.
Very soon.
This innocent, ignorant child sitting before her would also die under that cold, merciless imperial edict. His blood would soak the same streets as his father's, his brother's.
Her expression suddenly transformed, growing cold and severe. A dangerous glint flickered in her eyes.
The child instinctively shrank back slightly, sensing something frightening in her gaze.
When Shen Miao looked at him again, however, her tone had softened to its previous gentleness: "Su Mingfeng? Is he the heir to the Su family who recently achieved great merit managing the military horses?"
"Yes!" The child's head lifted with pride. "Father said His Majesty will certainly reward my elder brother with an official title this time!"
Shen Miao smiled, though the expression never quite reached her eyes.
She bent down slightly, leaning closer to the child, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper: "You mentioned that if your father knew you couldn't answer the teacher's question, he would punish you. I have a method that can ensure he won't punish you at all."
"What is it?" The child blinked expectantly.
"You must promise not to let him know I told you this. Only then will I share it."
"Alright." The child considered for a brief moment, then nodded eagerly.
Shen Miao's smile deepened as she gazed at the round, trusting face before her.
Two months. The Su family had two months left.
And she held knowledge that could change everything—or nothing at all.
The weight of that knowledge pressed against her chest far more painfully than any physical tightness ever could.
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