Chapter 22: What are you crying for! Stop playing the victim in front of me.

Xiao Ming’s body stiffened; she trembled faintly, her breathing caught in her throat. Under no circumstances could she let Ling Zhao be killed.

Mo Shichang was in no hurry, as if he were savoring a slow execution. He knew full well that regardless of whether Xiao Ming truly loved him, in this very moment, she would eventually be forced to return to his arms.

He had already won this game.

Without a choice, Xiao Ming turned stiffly, wrapped her arms around Mo Shichang’s neck, and lifted her head to press her lips to his. She kept her eyes shut, her fan-like lashes quivering, as a single, crystalline tear escaped the corner of her eye.

Mo Shichang cast a cold glance at Ling Zhao’s silhouette outside the pavilion. With one hand, he circled her waist; with the other, he gripped the back of her neck, lowered his gaze, and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her with fierce intensity—it was both a punishment and a release.

Caught off guard by the scene, Ling Zhao’s eyes turned icy. His blood boiled, and a torrent of emotions—rage or perhaps jealousy—surged within his chest, devouring his reason entirely.

"Xiao Ming, have you lost your mind!"

He strode into the pavilion in two steps, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her directly into his own embrace. Staring at her with malevolent eyes, he pointed at Mo Shichang and roared like a bloodthirsty beast: "To think you would cherish a piece of trash who would crawl through a dog hole in the West Garden just for a woman!"

Xiao Ming trembled uncontrollably, tears spilling out instantly.

"What are you crying for! Stop playing the victim in front of me!"

He watched Mo Shichang’s smug expression, his eyes growing wilder. He clenched his fists, ready to lunge, but she blocked him first. "Please, don't hurt him."

She was not defending Mo Shichang; she knew that if Ling Zhao struck him, the man might die, and she could not let an innocent person suffer for her sake.

"Young Master Ling, take me home," she whispered, breathless.

"Achoo!"

"Move over! Why are you crowding me? I can't see anything!"

"Ouch, my clothes are soaked!"

Rustling sounds echoed nearby. Looking toward the source, several figures were visible in the shadows at the corner of the pavilion’s corridor.

"It’s all your fault for sneezing! Great, now the show’s over!"

The group emerged from the shadows with a swaggering air. Among them was the man who had gifted the golden cicada armlet to Mo Yuan—Han Xiao, the second son of the Han family and the Duke’s most pampered youngest child. He was naturally indolent, a complete playboy.

"Our Brother Yunyin is truly impressive, charming such a beautiful young lady into throwing herself into his arms."

"The drinks weren't enough earlier. We're heading back to Zuiyan Tower. I lost today’s bet, so it's on me—I'll be waiting for you!"

"General Ling, would you like to bring your paramour along for a drink?"

The group burst into boisterous laughter, their voices fading into the distance.

Xiao Ming slowly closed her eyes, tears rolling down the moment her lids met. She offered a self-deprecating smile. She did not know how she had left the pavilion. The rain was too heavy; she could not open her eyes, nor could she see the path home.

"Father, Mother, your daughter was wrong."

Wrong to an extreme degree.

Drenched to the bone by the pouring rain, she stumbled alone along the empty street. Suddenly, losing her balance, she fell into a puddle, twisting her ankle severely. For a long time, she could not pull herself up. She lay there, letting the rain wash over her, wondering if it could wash away the humiliation of the day.

Suddenly, a large, warm hand reached out, gently lifting her and carrying her into a carriage. "Stop crying."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled and comforted her: "I am here."

In that instant, Xiao Ming finally broke down. She buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably.

"You little fool. I couldn't stop you no matter what I did. Do you regret it now?" Ling Zhao held her, his heart aching so much that he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word of reproach.

Her tears were like a rising tide, soaking his clothes. She seemed to pour out all the terror, grievance, and rage of the day into his embrace. After holding her in the carriage for a long time, Xiao Ming finally wiped away her tears, blinking her swollen, peach-colored eyes.

Ling Zhao chuckled; she looked truly ugly when she cried.

"Are you done crying?"

"I'm tired of crying."

—

The moonlight was hazy. A troop of black-armored imperial guards surrounded Zuiyan Tower, sealing it off completely.

Earlier, Ling Zhao had been summoned to the Eastern Palace by the Crown Prince. The Prince had revealed that the leader of the rebels captured during the Pingnan case was stubborn, refusing to speak even under torture. However, one of his死士 (dead-sworn agents) had let slip the name of the Duke of Han.

The Han family had been loyal subjects for generations and never involved in partisan strife; no one expected them to have colluded with rebels. If this gap in the Han family’s defenses could be torn open, other hidden rebels in the court might be cleared out as well.

With the Emperor’s permission, the Crown Prince had secretly dispatched Ling Zhao to investigate alongside the Ministry of Justice, the Supreme Court, and the Censorate.

Suifeng held his sword and clasped his hands in a salute: "General, besides the suspects, we have apprehended these as well."

Ling Zhao turned and swept a glance at the men kneeling on the ground—drunken, useless trash. His hostility surged. "Take them to the Imperial Prison."

The Imperial Prison was gloomy and sinister. Ling Zhao strode into the dark dungeon, his boots treading through muddy, blood-stained water. The dim cells felt all the more menacing in the dead of night.

Han Xiao, unable to withstand the torture, hung his head from the wooden cross, his hair disheveled and his body stained with blood.

Mo Shichang and the other young rakes were thrown into a separate cell, huddled in a corner, shivering. They were covered in their own filth, having been terrified into losing control of their bowels. These young men, who had appeared so refined and noble during the day, were now in a rare, wretched state.

Seeing Ling Zhao approach, Mo Shichang scrambled toward the wooden bars, pleading, "General Ling, please, let me go! I truly know nothing!"

"Someone, open the gate."

"Yes!" With the heavy clatter of iron chains, the cell door was opened, and Ling Zhao stepped inside.

"I—I didn't do anything! Why are you arresting me?"

Ling Zhao stared at Mo Shichang with icy eyes, his rage roiling. This piece of trash had almost cost her her life.

"Ling Zhao! I am an official of the imperial court! You are arresting me privately; you will be punished for this!"

Ling Zhao narrowed his eyes and gave a sneer of contempt. "What kind of thing are you?"

"You are abusing your power for personal vendettas! Abusing your power for that little slut!"

Ling Zhao’s brow furrowed. "Too noisy. Cut out his tongue; let's see what else he dares to threaten her with."

At these words, Mo Shichang’s face turned deathly pale. He continued to curse without restraint: "Ling Zhao! You dare cut out my tongue! Do you know my elder sister is about to marry the Second Prince? I am the Second Prince’s brother-in-law! If you dare touch a hair on my head, the Second Prince will never spare—ah!"

Before he could finish, a shrill, piercing scream echoed through the room.

Suifeng, who had been waiting to the side, stepped forward, clamped his jaw, and used a short blade to pierce his tongue in one swift motion.

Mo Shichang’s face twisted in agony, beads of sweat the size of beans rolling down his forehead. He curled up on the ground, trembling, as bright red blood gushed from his mouth in wet, choking gurgles.

Ling Zhao cast an indifferent glance at the remaining men and said coldly, "What did he just say?"

"I—I don't know! I didn't hear anything!"

"I... I didn't hear or see anything either!"

"Young Master Ling, General Ling, Grandfather Ling, please spare us..."

Ling Zhao walked out of the cell without a word, turning back to say coldly, "Get out!"

The men froze, then scrambled out of the cell on their hands and feet, fleeing as if their lives depended on it.

Suifeng tilted his head toward the cell and bowed, asking, "General, how should we deal with this one?"