Chapter 11: Exposure

Yan Ling had been ill for two days.
When she finally woke again, her entire body felt unbearably heavy.
What was rare was that Xie Chongqing was sitting by the bedside, his gaze deep and fixed on her.
Yan Ling opened her mouth, wanting to speak, but her throat was so dry it hurt.

“Water.”
Xie Chongqing lifted a hand slightly.
Qingtao hurriedly poured a cup and brought it over.

His large hand supported the back of Yan Ling’s neck as he slowly tilted the cup.
The water flowed gently into her mouth, moistening her parched throat and lips.

After drinking, Yan Ling propped herself up.
The illness had not diminished her beauty in the slightest—if anything, her frail, sickly appearance made her even more pitiful and endearing.

“I dreamed of my imperial father.
I thought I had returned to the palace… I didn’t expect…”
Her voice was hoarse and dry, her expression pale and hollow.

Xie Chongqing kept a cold face and said nothing.

Yan Ling lay back, staring upward.
“Xie Chongqing, let me go.
I promise I won’t say a word.
If I so much as reveal anything about you, you can kill me—how about that?”

Xie Chongqing had always been hard-hearted as iron, his thoughts unfathomable.
He would never believe a single word from Yan Ling.

His gaze was cold and sinister as he looked down at her from above.
There was not a trace of pity.
No matter if she cried, fell ill, or swore oaths—he would not trust her in the slightest.

Over the past two days, Yuan Che had investigated everyone in the residence who had come into contact with Yan Ling.
Most were retainers.

Among them, there were two interactions with the Fan family, two with Gongsun Zhi, and the rest were merely casual tea conversations.

After reporting to Xie Chongqing, he ordered Yuan Che to further investigate Gongsun Zhi’s movements.

By this morning, Gongsun Zhi’s recent whereabouts had been laid out on his desk.
He had disappeared for five days, taken several guards out of the city, returned two days ago with a Hu man, and was then taken away by the Wang family.

Everything was now clear.
He almost laughed from anger.

He had underestimated this “Your Highness.”

Xie Chongqing’s expression turned cold and composed.
“We have caught the arsonist in the residence,” he suddenly said.

Yan Ling immediately looked at him, a flicker of life returning to her face.
“It was… who?” she asked cautiously.

“Just a lowborn nobody,” Xie Chongqing replied, not meeting her eyes.
His tone was indifferent, yet it easily stirred panic in Yan Ling’s heart.

She forced a smile.
“Ah… then what will happen to him?”

Only then did Xie Chongqing raise his gaze.
“A creature like that, harboring treacherous intent—death would not be a pity.”

His expression carried a faint, ambiguous smile.
His words, however, were utterly cold—cruel yet casual.

Yan Ling’s breathing grew uneven.
Her fingers clenched tightly into her skirt.
Her heartbeat thundered like drums, as if it would burst out of her chest.
Guilt weighed on her as she lowered her head, biting her lip hard, wanting to speak but unable to say anything.

It was obvious.
The one they caught was most likely Gongsun Zhi.

Suddenly, her shoulders sank.
Startled out of her daze, Yan Ling realized that Xie Chongqing had draped a cloak over her.
His deep voice was like a clear spring: “Your Highness seems cold.”

She forced a smile.
“Mm… I’m tired. I want to rest.”
She tightened the cloak and lay back down on the bed.

Xie Chongqing’s voice came from behind her.
To Yan Ling, it sounded like a soul-snatching ghost—terrifying and repulsive.

“Then Your Highness should rest.
This minister will not disturb you.”

His footsteps gradually faded.
The door closed softly.
Wrapped in the cloak, Yan Ling bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

A life had been lost because of her.
Having never experienced storms or life-and-death before, she could not bear the overwhelming guilt crashing down on her.

A wave of despair rose from within.

Two more days passed.
Yan Ling’s illness had eased considerably, and her foot had improved as well.

She cautiously stood up and took a few steps.
Though there was some soreness, it did not hinder her much.
Fortunately, the injury had not damaged the bones or tendons, allowing her to recover quickly.

If it had, she would not have been able to stand for at least three months.

Qingtao entered the room.
She was no longer as talkative as before.
Lowering her head respectfully, she said, “Miss, the master invites you.”

“Did he say what for?” Yan Ling asked listlessly, clearly unwilling to go.

“He only said you would know when you arrived,” Qingtao replied, her expression somewhat inscrutable.

Yan Ling did not use a wheelchair.
She walked slowly toward Jingfeng Hall.

In past years, Jiankang stayed warm like spring for a long time before turning cold.
But this year, the chill had come early—so cold it seemed to seep into her bones, making her shiver.

She wrapped herself early in a fox fur cloak.
The snow-white fur made her already pale, slender face look even more fragile.

Along the way, she prepared herself mentally again and again before forcing out a smile as if nothing had happened.

Before even entering Jingfeng Hall, she saw a figure sitting leisurely in a grand armchair under the corridor.

He wore a wide-sleeved robe of pure white embroidered with golden cranes.
His hair was tied up with a white jade hairpin.
His features were as if painted, elegant and refined—like a lofty mountain bathed in clear light, sacred and untouchable.

As she drew closer, Yan Ling suddenly stopped.
The smile she had forced froze at the corner of her lips.

In the courtyard of Jingfeng Hall, a figure knelt.

Clad in a thin Daoist robe, hands bound, he was pressed low to the ground.
Yuan Che stood nearby, holding a whip.

At each corner of the courtyard stood motionless guards.
On either side of Gongsun Zhi sat several retainers of the Xie residence—people Yan Ling recognized as Xie Chongqing’s trusted advisors.
A solemn, oppressive atmosphere enveloped the courtyard.

Yan Ling slowly walked in.
She could no longer even manage a smile.
“You were looking for me.”

Hearing her voice, Gongsun Zhi raised his head.

“Sit.”
Xie Chongqing set down his celadon cup and gestured.
A chair had been placed beside him.

Yan Ling walked over and sat down, uneasy.

Her gaze met Gongsun Zhi’s.

Aside from slightly disheveled hair, he seemed otherwise unharmed.
He only glanced at her once before turning his head away, as if he did not know her.

“Why did you call me here?” Yan Ling asked.
Was this meant to kill the chicken to warn the monkeys?

This kind of slow, grinding punishment was the most unbearable.
But Yan Ling quickly steadied herself.

Xie Chongqing leaned on the table, tilting his head.
“This minister specially invited Your Highness to witness the punishment.”

Hearing this, Gongsun Zhi lifted his head, his body trembling slightly.

“This man is bold and reckless, committing arson and harming others.
Fortunately, no one in the Eastern Hall was injured—otherwise, he would not have lived until today.”

Gongsun Zhi hurriedly cried out, “Sir, I have been wronged!
This fire was not set by me!”

He could not understand how the fire in the Eastern Hall had been pinned on him.
“I wasn’t even in the residence that day!”

“Then where were you?” Xie Chongqing countered.

Gongsun Zhi choked.
His breathing quickened.

Where was he…?
He was at… the Wang residence.

Yan Ling hardly dared to breathe, sitting as if on pins and needles.

But Gongsun Zhi could not say it.
He clenched his teeth.
“I… I was…”

He stammered, unable to form a proper answer.
He knew that if he lied, Xie Chongqing could easily verify it.

“Since you can’t say, then that is answer enough.”

Yan Ling’s dark lashes trembled.
She glanced subtly at Gongsun Zhi and understood his dilemma.

“I…”
She almost spoke, ready to throw caution to the wind and confess everything.

Xie Chongqing’s expression turned stern.
His tone was decisive.
“Yuan Che, strike.”

“Yes.”

Yuan Che responded, raising the whip.
It sliced through the air with a sharp crack before landing heavily on Gongsun Zhi.

A scream rang out in the courtyard.

Yan Ling was stunned.
Yuan Che lashed down again without emotion.
Gongsun Zhi’s screams grew louder and more desperate.

The force was brutal yet avoided damaging bones and tendons—only tearing flesh apart, blood splattering as his face twisted in agony.

Xie Chongqing sat high above, detached, as if watching a play.
He even seemed to take a certain appreciation in Gongsun Zhi’s cries.

“Let this be a lesson.
Those who betray from within will meet such an end.”

The retainers exchanged glances, not daring to breathe.
The master could tolerate many things—but never betrayal.
No matter how close or trusted Gongsun Zhi had been, once he entered the Xie household, he belonged to it.

The whipping continued.

Yan Ling could not bear it any longer and wanted to stop it.
But Xie Chongqing suddenly turned his head and spoke in a voice only she could hear:

“Shh.
If Your Highness pleads for him, he will die even faster.”

The low whisper brushed against her ear like falling winter snow.
Cold spread through her entire body.

Yan Ling’s expression turned pale with horror.
She sat frozen, her eyes reddening, yet she could do nothing.

The smell of blood in the air grew stronger.
Gongsun Zhi’s back was torn open, his robe shredded, flesh ripped apart in crisscrossing wounds.
Most of his clothing was soaked in blood.

Some of the retainers could not bear to watch and turned away.

Xie Chongqing waved a hand.
Yuan Che immediately stopped.

Gongsun Zhi lay sprawled on the ground, barely breathing—neither fully alive nor dead.

Yuan Che stepped forward to check his pulse.
“He’s still alive.”

“Throw him out.
He is not to step foot into the Xie residence again.”

The refined nobleman standing above seemed like a butcher controlling the lives of lowborn commoners beneath his feet.
His robes remained spotless, while blood from the lowly spread across the ground at his feet.

Guards stepped forward, dragging Gongsun Zhi away by the arms.
His head hung limp, his body half-dragged across the ground as he was taken out.

The retainers dispersed.
The courtyard fell silent.

Yan Ling took a deep breath.
Gongsun Zhi had been thrown out—whether he would live or die was unknown.

She felt as though her soul had been torn away.
A choking pain lodged in her throat.

“Does it feel awful?”
Xie Chongqing’s voice sounded beside her, calm as if discussing something trivial.

Yan Ling said nothing.
Everything was clear now.
She could not even be bothered to pretend anymore.
All the hatred in her heart gathered toward the man before her.

Xie Chongqing paid no mind to her attitude.
He stood and said lightly, “Your Highness truly does not behave.”

He stepped over the filthy blood on the ground without concern.
It was an unmistakable threat.

Yan Ling’s scalp tingled.
Her stomach churned with nausea.

“Xie Chongqing, just kill me,” she said suddenly.
She regretted it—regretted begging him to save her that day.

“Want to die now? Too late.”
Xie Chongqing raised a brow.

She returned to her courtyard in a daze, collapsing onto the bed.
She did not eat lunch, nor dinner.

Qingtao could not persuade her and had no choice but to report it.

Unexpectedly, Xie Chongqing only said lightly, “No need to mind her.”

Yan Ling lay on the bed, unable to sleep.

At the moment Gongsun Zhi was thrown out, Fu Li, who had been hiding in the distance, saw everything.

The noble clans came and went along Wuyi Alley.
To avoid detection, he hid in an inn across the street, watching daily.

Disguising himself as a peddler, he approached Gongsun Zhi.
Seeing his horrifying wounds, Fu Li’s heart sank to the bottom.

…

The next day, Yan Ling appeared normal again, as if nothing had happened.
She sat behind her desk, calmly flipping through a medical text.

Qingtao let out a sigh of relief.

She asked casually, “Miss, why are you reading medical books again?”

In the past, Yan Ling would read ancient texts or military treatises.

“I found it by accident while sorting the bookshelf today, so I thought I’d take a look.
Where is Xie Chongqing?”

“The master has entered the palace.”

Yan Ling did not lift her head.
“By the way, my ankle feels a bit sore again today.
Maybe I walked too much.
Have the physician prescribe me a couple more doses of medicine.”

Qingtao did not dare delay and quickly summoned the residence physician.

After examining her injury, the physician noted some redness and swelling and prescribed both external and internal medicine.

Qingtao had the medicines prepared.

That afternoon, when Yan Ling stepped out of her room, a supervising maid stopped her.

“Miss, where are you going?”

“I’m hungry.
I’m going to the kitchen to find something to eat.”
Her voice was weak, her face pale.
After all, she had not eaten the entire previous day.

“Would you like the servants to bring it to you instead?”

Yan Ling lazily lifted her eyelids.
“What, I’m not even allowed to go out now?
If you’re worried, just follow me.”

The maids exchanged glances and did not dare stop her.
Qingtao followed behind.

Yan Ling walked through the corridor.
A breeze lifted the edge of her veil.
She seemed as thin as paper, her robes fluttering as if she might ascend to immortality at any moment.

She entered the kitchen.
Qingtao remained outside, watching as Yan Ling selected food and pastries.

Yan Ling’s gaze swept across the counter, landing on the wrapped medicinal packets nearby.
It was not mealtime, so there were few people in the kitchen, each busy with their own tasks.

With her back to Qingtao, she quietly unwrapped the paper bundles.
From each packet, she took a small portion of the needed herbs and slipped them into her sleeve before tying them back up.

“What are these?” she asked, pointing at several dishes.

The cook hesitated.
“These… are for Fourth Miss.”

Yan Ling’s heart stirred.
In a few short breaths, she had already chosen her target.

“Do you listen to the master, or to Fourth Miss?”

Seeing Qingtao’s stern figure outside, the cook immediately did not dare say another word.