“Selling the corpse of one’s wife is already contemptible enough — and something like that can actually be used as evidence?” Zhang Yinyue knitted her brows.
Zhang Zhixu said: “The most pressing matter right now is to find out what other evidence Lu Qingrong has in her hands, beyond this one piece.”
Zhang Ting’an asked: “Why not first question the authenticity of the evidence?”
Chen Baoxiang pressed her face into her hands.
She fully understood the concern these Zhang family members had for her — but apart from Zhang Fengqing, the other two knew nothing at all, so how could they sit here giving her advice?
Zhang Ting’an in particular — the Emperor hadn’t forced him into the palace again, but that didn’t mean he had been let off, and his own affairs were still unresolved. How could he save anyone else?
Yinyue also didn’t look well. Her complexion was pale, and her eyes held little light.
Chen Baoxiang couldn’t help leaning over to ask: “Something on your mind?”
“No.”
With Cheng Huaili dead, the one who should have been happiest was her — finally free of that engagement, no longer having to marry that awful old man. Yet except for her, no one in the family was pleased about it, including Zhang Xilai.
He hadn’t even come to pay his respects to her for several days in a row.
Zhang Yinyue brooded over it gloomily. If that was how things were, she thought, it would have been better if Cheng Huaili hadn’t died at all. Whoever she married made no difference to Zhang Xilai anyway — and now it had even dragged Sister Baoxiang into trouble.
Her eyes grew hot, her nose scrunched, and she was on the verge of tears.
It was precisely at that moment that Zhang Xilai stepped through the doorway.
“Father, Little Uncle, General Chen, Aunt.” He clasped his hands and greeted each one in turn, the angle of each bow so precise it might have been measured with a ruler.
Yinyue turned her head away and refused to look at him.
Zhang Ting’an was puzzled: “Didn’t your tutor say you were practicing riding and archery today?”
“Yes, I have already completed a full hour of practice,” Zhang Xilai replied with clasped hands. “The documents from the Bureau of Construction have also been reviewed and approved. On my way here, I noticed the grass in Father’s courtyard had grown a little too dense, so I helped the groundskeeper trim it as well.”
Zhang Ting’an nodded with satisfaction: “You’re a sensible child. Since you’ve already been busy all morning, go and rest for a while.”
Zhang Xilai stood without moving.
He drew a slow breath and clasped his hands once more in a deliberate bow: “Father, there is something your son must report.”
“Can’t you see the elders are busy?” Zhang Ting’an waved him off. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“It’s all right.” Zhang Zhixu looked toward him. “If it weren’t important, you would not have spoken up.”
“Yes.” Zhang Xilai produced a dagger and held it out before him with both hands. “The death of Cheng Huaili — I can take responsibility for it.”
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