The entire Jun mansion was now ablaze with light. Cang Qianlang walked through the winding corridors, and before he even stepped into the punishment chamber, he heard faint sobbing. He opened the door to see a green-clad girl slumped against the wall, her arms dislocated, unable to support herself, and crying softly. “Why did you kill?” Cang Qianlang stood expressionlessly before Chuxia, lifting her chin with his hand, his voice cold, “Speak up now, and you’ll suffer less.” Chuxia recoiled in fear, tears brimming but not falling, shaking her head vigorously, “I didn’t kill anyone! Please, steward, see the truth!” Cang Qianlang scoffed, “You didn’t kill? Then why were you holding the murder weapon, standing in Wang Yun Zhai?”
“I don’t know… I really don’t know!” Chuxia exclaimed. “I went to add coal to the lady’s room, and when I entered, it was like that! The dagger… I just picked it up! It wasn’t me!” Cang Qianlang snorted in disbelief, letting go of her face with a sharp flick, seating himself on a rosewood chair, and ordered, “Bring me some hot tea.” The servant acknowledged and hurried off. Leaning back, Cang Qianlang said, “Very well, since you don’t admit it, tell me what you saw.”
Chuxia’s small face was streaked with tears as she bit her lip hard, trying to endure the pain, and whispered, “I don’t know anything… I went to Wang Yun Zhai tonight to add new coal, tripped over the dagger, picked it up… and the lady was already… like that.” She repeated these phrases over and over, and Cang Qianlang grew impatient. Just then, footsteps were heard at the door, and a tall, thin man entered, shaking off the cold.
