Chapter 11: The Feather

At this moment, a young constable rushed over in a panic. His face was youthful, clearly indicating that he had only recently joined the ranks.

He approached Wu Rui’an and loudly announced, “Your Highness, a hidden cellar has been discovered in the back courtyard, just behind the Buddha Hall!”

“Truly?” Wu Rui’an’s eyes lit up with urgency as he exclaimed, “Quickly, take me there!”

“Your Highness, please follow me,” the constable replied before leading Wu Rui’an, Wen Yao, Zhong Xu, and about a dozen others swiftly toward the small room behind the Buddha Hall.

After they left, the Madam collapsed like a deflated ball, sinking to the ground and remaining dazed for a long time.

“Madam, don’t panic,” the old steward said, attempting to help her up, but she slapped him hard across the face. A loud “slap” echoed, leaving five bright red handprints on his cheek.

“He is Prince Wu! Why didn’t you say so earlier? And what about that Di Jiang—why didn’t you investigate further?”

“Madam, please don’t panic! If others see us like this, we’ll be in serious trouble!”

“Serious trouble?” The Madam sneered, her eyes dull and lifeless. She continued bitterly, “It seems our days of peace are over... I fear none of us will have good lives from now on...”

In the back courtyard’s Buddha Hall, Wu Rui’an led Wen Yao and Zhong Xu into the hidden chamber.

Along the way, they learned from the constable that after the soldiers had moved the two coffins, they discovered a single feather on the ground.

The feather initially seemed unremarkable, but no matter how many people stepped on it, it remained firmly in place, piquing the young constable’s curiosity. He examined it several times, trying to pick it up, but found he couldn’t lift it at all. Upon closer inspection, he realized half of the feather was embedded in the ground.

This feather had originally been an ornament atop Zhang Siyao’s head. How could it possibly have become embedded in the floor? The only explanation was that the floor of the hidden chamber was movable, and when it had once been opened, the feather had accidentally gotten caught between the boards.

This perfectly illustrated the saying: “The net of heaven is vast, yet it lets nothing slip.”

“To those who discovered this cellar, I shall generously reward you!” Wu Rui’an waved his hand and tossed the constable a silver note worth one hundred taels.

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Overwhelmed with emotion, the constable fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably. To put things into perspective, his monthly salary was only two taels; Wu Rui’an had casually handed him fifty times that amount in an instant—a fortune he had never dreamed of seeing in his lifetime!

Meanwhile, deep underground, Di Jiang was also trembling—but not out of excitement. She was shivering from the cold.

Over the past two days, Di Jiang had given up calling for help. The distance to the surface was too great, and the thick iron plates above muffled her cries, rendering them futile. All her efforts were wasted energy.

She leaned against the wall, sitting in a daze, her mind replaying scenes from days ago: corpses littered throughout the cellar, some decomposed entirely, others halfway rotted. Soon, she would join their ranks.

But strangely, she wasn’t afraid of such sights.

Life was merely skin, bones, and a flicker of consciousness. Scenes like these were familiar to her—from Shicha Lake, from Tuo Luo Kingdom, from Fan Hun Village… and countless wars and famines she’d witnessed across dynasties. There had been far too many.

However, in the past, she had always been an observer. Now, she was the one experiencing it firsthand.

Hunger and cold consumed her senses entirely. She needed every ounce of strength to endure them, lest they completely overwhelm her.

Yet, she grew weaker by the moment.

Di Jiang chuckled softly, feeling neither sadness nor despair—perhaps because hunger had taken hold of her mind, which now fixated solely on food.

She thought of the sugared lotus root from Lao Dong Jia on South Street, the dried meat from Li Family Shop, Gui Hua Wine from Heyuan Restaurant, roasted fish from Gong De Fang, and Jiangnan dishes from Ju Xian Zhai… Even the simple home-cooked meals prepared by Meng Zhuang Yuan’s shopkeeper now made her mouth water uncontrollably.

“Di Jiang, Di Jiang,” she muttered to herself, “after all these years among mortals, haven’t you regressed back to your origins?”

Di Jiang slumped against the wall. Days—or perhaps nights—had passed without count, yet she remained curled up in the corner, unmoving.

At first, she had hoped someone would come to rescue her. But now, she no longer held such expectations. She simply sat there quietly, awaiting death. For once her physical body perished, even if her soul remained trapped within the Fanti Yin, her suffering would end...

Just as Di Jiang hovered on the brink of unconsciousness, a sudden “whoosh” startled her awake. A rush of icy wind poured down from above, jolting her from her stupor.

Summoning all her strength, she lifted her head and saw faint candlelight flickering above.

Overcome with emotion, she tried to cry out for help but found she lacked the strength to open her mouth.

Di Jiang could only watch as the dancing flames drew nearer, accompanied by the descent of a tall man through the opening.

She didn’t recognize him immediately but instinctively crawled over the piles of corpses, clutching tightly onto the man’s ankle standing on the steps.

“Don’t be afraid, I’ve come to save you…” The man crouched down, pulling her into his arms. He patted her back gently, soothing her like one might comfort an injured kitten.

Di Jiang trembled violently.

Suddenly, memories of a distant past flooded back—memories of a boy beside Shicha Lake. Though raggedly dressed, his eyes had been clear and pure.

Just like now, he had embraced her tenderly, wiping away her tears while blushing and promising, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone hurt you…”

This scene, so achingly familiar.

The difference was that the boy in her arms had already passed away back then, and since that day, she had never shed another tear…

Di Jiang lay silently in the man’s embrace, drawing warmth from his body without uttering a word. Partly because she lacked the strength to walk on her own, and partly because she could pretend she was still by Shicha Lake in that year—pretend the boy hadn’t vanished.

“Doctor Di, can you hold on? I’ll take you home right away.”

The man’s voice pulled Di Jiang out of her memories and back to reality. The voice sounded strangely familiar, though she couldn’t place it. What struck her most was the tenderness in his tone—a tenderness none of her close acquaintances had ever shown her.

That gentleness felt like warm spring water, enveloping her in a soothing mist.

Summoning all her strength, she lifted her head and, under the faint light filtering through, carefully examined him. Only then did she realize she hadn’t been mistaken—it wasn’t Shuxiang, nor Zhong Xu, but the sixth son of Emperor Chen, Prince Wu Rui’an.

Wu Rui’an carried Di Jiang out of the hidden chamber and, under the watchful eyes of hundreds, placed her gently into the imperial purple-gold four-window carriage reserved for princes.

Inside the carriage, clean and comfortable bedding had already been prepared. Wen Yao, who had boarded earlier, let Di Jiang rest her head on her lap, ensuring it wouldn’t bump against the windows.

Di Jiang exhaled deeply, feeling both her body and mind relax. She thought to herself, “The air outside is so fresh and sweet—it’s enough to make one forget all worries...”

At this moment, Zhong Xu lifted the curtain and handed over a copper hot-water bottle, saying, “Give this to Miss Di. Place it under the blankets to warm her hands.”

Wen Yao accepted it, noting its gilded surface and exquisite craftsmanship, and praised him repeatedly: “It’s rare to see Taoist Zhong being so considerate!”

Di Jiang listened with her eyes closed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

But the next moment, Zhong Xu added, “It was Prince Rui’an who instructed me to bring it.”

“Oh, I see. So it’s the prince who’s thoughtful after all… Hey, why are you still standing there? Hurry up and lower the curtain! Don’t let my shopkeeper catch a chill!”

After Wen Yao scolded him, Zhong Xu immediately apologized: “Sorry, sorry! I’ll leave now,” and the sound of the purple-gold bead curtain and drapes being lowered followed.

Listening to their exchange, Di Jiang imagined how much Zhong Xu must have suffered at Wen Yao’s hands these past few days. His honest and simple demeanor was both pitiful and heartbreaking.

Meanwhile, in Yangchun Manor’s courtyard, an eerie silence reigned.

Upon hearing that the missing person had been found in the cellar, everyone fell limp to the ground. Servants cried out in despair: “We’re dead for sure! None of us will survive this!”

“Whoever committed such a heinous act has doomed the entire household to die with them!” The maids wailed and cursed toward the heavens.

Even Meng Changle, the Madam’s son, collapsed onto the ground, tugging at his mother’s sleeve and pleading: “Mother, I don’t want to die…”

The Madam’s heart clenched as she pulled him into her arms, patting his back softly, as if the grown man before her were still the little child who once begged for milk.

By now, even the Madam appeared dazed, no longer the domineering figure she used to be. Yet, unlike the others, she neither cried nor complained, seemingly unwilling to blink even in the face of death.

The old steward stood beside her, covering his face, his expression filled with sorrow.

After Wu Rui’an dismounted from the carriage, he surveyed the crowd with a cold smirk and issued another command: “Take them all back to the yamen and seal off this mansion! No one is allowed to enter or leave!”

“Yes, sir!”

Constables gathered at the entrance, binding everyone in Yangchun Manor together with ropes and preparing to escort them into the city.

Once the procession was assembled, they set off toward Taiping Prefecture. Leading the way was Wu Rui’an’s carriage, followed by the prisoners from Yangchun Manor, led by the Madam. Behind them came the unconscious Elder Madam, carried on a stretcher, followed by two coffins containing Liu Si and Zhang Siyao. Bringing up the rear were three carts piled high with bones wrapped in white cloth—remains unearthed from the cellar.

Though covered, some bones rolled off during the bumpy journey, and curious passersby couldn’t resist leaning down for a closer look. Upon seeing the ghastly contents, many screamed and promptly began vomiting by the roadside.

Unperturbed by the commotion, Wu Rui’an and Zhong Xu drove their carriage ahead, occasionally lifting the curtain to peek inside. Initially, Wu Rui’an seemed unable to believe Di Jiang had truly been found, needing several confirmations.

First, he had inspected everything in the cellar himself and couldn’t fathom how anyone could endure being locked up with such horrors for five days. He hoped Di Jiang hadn’t contracted any illnesses or suffered psychological trauma—if she had, it would break his heart.

Second, he envied Wen Yao at this moment. How he wished it was his lap Di Jiang was resting her head on…

“The shopkeeper hates being disturbed while sleeping,” Wen Yao cleared her throat and whispered a reminder.

“Forgive me, forgive me. It was presumptuous of me,” Wu Rui’an replied humbly after being scolded by Wen Yao. Feeling reassured, he refrained from disturbing the occupants of the carriage further.

For the remainder of the journey, his mood seemed buoyant. While driving, he hummed songs, almost ready to announce their arrival with fanfare.

The procession finally returned to Taiping Prefecture just before sunset.