The Sickly Regent Prince Who Was Abandoned as a Substitute Bride

Chapter 600

Three days later, Steward Zhou, who was in charge of the investigation, returned with a hunched back, the account book in his hands stained with dark sweat. "Miss, we've searched the woodshed thoroughly, but we only found some charred wooden beams..." His voice trailed off, almost shrinking into a ball under Dongfang Wan'er's calm gaze. Dongfang Wan'er looked at the rain outside the window, then suddenly chuckled softly, startling the swallows on the beams into fluttering away: "Thank you for your trouble, Uncle Zhou. Go back and rest now."

Sure enough, the storm came sooner than expected. On the morning of the fifth day, crows cawed shrilly from the paulownia tree in the old lady's courtyard. When Qingdai rushed in, her face pale, to report this, Dongfang Wan'er was copying the "Admonitions of the Instructress to the Court Ladies," her brush tip hovering over the rice paper, ink droplets blurring into a small dark cloud. "The old lady... she summons you immediately, saying she found a tinderbox in your room..."

As she walked through the winding corridor, Dongfang Wan'er could feel countless gazes shooting at her from behind the carved windows. The whispers of the maids mingled with the sound of rain, like the flicking tongues of venomous snakes. In the old lady's courtyard, Dongfang Mingzhu leaned against her side, a handkerchief covering her mouth, but her eyes were like poisoned daggers. On the table, the brass tinderbox gleamed coldly, its edges still bearing suspicious charred marks.

"Dongfang Wan'er, what else do you have to say?" The old lady's voice was colder than well water in winter, and the prayer beads clattered between her fingers. Dongfang Wan'er calmly curtsied and took out a stack of yellowed letters from her sleeve, each sheet bearing the marks of smoke and fire: "Please take a look at these first, Madam."

In the candlelight, the words on the letter gradually became clear. It was a secret correspondence between Dongfang Mingzhu and a merchant from another family, detailing how to transfer the Dongfang family's land deeds and shops, and even a plot to collude with mountain bandits. The old lady's hands began to tremble, and her prayer beads scattered on the blue bricks with a "clatter," rolling everywhere. Dongfang Mingzhu's face turned from red to white, then from white to blue, and finally she collapsed to the ground, her hair disheveled, her jewels jingling and falling to the ground.

"Dongfang Mingzhu, what else do you have to say?" The old lady's roar shook the dust off the beams. Dongfang Wan'er looked at her defeated appearance, but felt no joy of victory. The rain poured down harder, the water cascading from the eaves like a waterfall, as if foreshadowing a larger storm brewing. She knew this power struggle within the household was just the tip of the iceberg; the real turmoil might have only just begun.

The twilight, like blood, stained the vermilion pillars of the Eastern Mansion. The carved window frames creaked softly in the wind, as if sighing for the sudden turmoil. Just as everyone was stunned into silence by the unexpected turn of events, and the air seemed to freeze, Cuiyu, the usually composed head maidservant beside the old lady, rushed forward with unsteady steps and a flustered expression. She bent down, her lips almost touching the old lady's ear, and whispered a few urgent words in a voice only the two of them could hear.

The old lady's previously relaxed face suddenly tightened, her cloudy eyes darted rapidly in their sockets, and the wrinkles on her face seemed like paper crumpled by an invisible hand, turning pale and then flushed. However, the authority she had held over the family for many years allowed her to quickly regain her composure. She forced her back to straighten, and although her voice trembled slightly, it still spoke in an unquestionable tone: "Take Dongfang Mingzhu away first, and we'll discuss this matter later."

In the crowd, Dongfang Wan'er lowered her eyes to conceal the coldness within. As the least favored illegitimate daughter of the Dongfang family, she understood all too well how much scheming lay behind the old lady's seemingly casual remark. Having grown up navigating the complexities of this mansion, she had long since developed a keen intuition. A chill ran through her; she knew that this seemingly simple conflict was actually fraught with undercurrents and far more complex than it appeared on the surface.

Sure enough, in the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, a series of steady, powerful footsteps approached. An official in a dark robe and black gauze hat strode in, the insignia on his robe swaying slightly with each step. He gripped the official document tightly in his hand, the edges of the paper slightly wrinkled. After stopping, he glanced at everyone present and said loudly, "Patriarch Dongfang, someone has submitted a petition accusing Dongfang Wan'er of arson, burning down the woodshed with the intent to murder her family. I am here on the orders of the magistrate to bring her back to the yamen for questioning."

A mocking sneer curled at the corner of Dongfang Wan'er's lips. This clumsy frame-up must have been meticulously planned. She subconsciously glanced at the old lady in the main seat, only to see the old lady cough lightly, slowly pick up her teacup, and deliberately avoid her gaze by blowing on the tea leaves floating on the surface. Dongfang Wan'er understood. She clenched her fist under her sleeve, then quickly relaxed it. She straightened her back, her expression calm and composed, and followed the officials out of the courtyard where she had lived for so many years.

The setting sun cast a long shadow of hers, swaying on the cobblestone path. Along the way, Dongfang Wan'er's mind raced, searching for a solution. Possible masterminds and past grudges flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern. Just as she fell into deep thought, the crisp sound of horses' hooves approached from afar, and a lavishly decorated carriage suddenly stopped in front of her. The carriage was entirely black, yet intricate cloud patterns were outlined with gold thread; the wheels made a steady, resonant sound as they rolled over the cobblestones.

The car window slowly rolled down, revealing a gentle, refined face to Dongfang Wan'er. The man was dressed in luxurious yet understated attire; the jade pendant at his waist gleamed softly in the twilight, and he exuded an innate air of nobility. He smiled slightly, his voice as melodious as a clear spring: "Don't panic, young lady. I will investigate this matter thoroughly." Dongfang Wan'er was slightly taken aback, countless questions swirling in her mind. Who exactly was this mysterious nobleman from the capital? And why was he offering his assistance at this time? And what intricate, earth-shattering conspiracy lay hidden behind this seemingly ordinary power struggle? Gazing at the nobleman before her, she felt the gears of fate begin to turn, and the true contest had only just begun.

Dusk settled heavily over the green tiles. Dongfang Wan'er gazed at the translucent jade pendant with a dragon design at the man's waist, its surface shimmering with a ghostly blue light in the fading dawn. A gentle evening breeze ruffled the stray hairs at her temples, murmuring the distant shouts of the officials. Her fingers, clutching the hem of her dress, trembled slightly. Finally, she curtsied, her voice trembling with the shivering of a withered autumn lotus: "Thank you for your help, young master. But may I ask why you helped me?"

The man raised his hand in a gesture of support, and as his sleeve slipped down, half a section of dark silver thread was revealed—a weave technique reserved for tribute items from the imperial court. Behind him, the guards gripped their sword hilts in perfect unison, their dark uniforms flowing like a river of ink in the twilight. "Miss, there's no need for further questions," he said, a smile barely reaching his eyes, his knuckles tapping the carriage shaft, the clinking of the brass rings startling birds roosting under the eaves. "This place is not fit to linger."

Dongfang Wan'er stared at the gold-embroidered qilin pattern on the carriage curtain, her nails almost digging into her palms. In her memory, there was also a roll of silk with the same pattern hidden in a secret compartment of her father's study. The carriage suddenly started moving, and she staggered, grabbing for the side of the carriage wall. The sandalwood armrest inlaid with jade felt cool. The sound of horses' hooves outside was like a torrential rain. Through the cracks in the window, she saw the streetlights lighting up one after another, like a string of extinguished sparks.

After navigating through winding streets and alleys, the carriage stopped before a vermilion gate. No plaque hung above the gate, but the gilded waist badges of the guards gleamed coldly in the moonlight—a standard worn only by the Imperial Guards. Dongfang Wan'er stepped off the carriage onto the soft cushions, catching a glimpse of half a crimson skirt behind the screen wall, the tinkling of gold hairpins in her hair as delicate as cracking ice.

The crabapple blossoms in the side courtyard were in full bloom, the night dew clinging to the petals like frozen teardrops. The man pushed a cup of Biluochun tea towards her; the lotus scroll pattern subtly engraved on the bottom of the celadon cup was exactly the same as the teacup she had broken as a child. "Please stay here in peace, young lady," he said, gazing at the swaying bamboo shadows in the courtyard, the steaming tea blurring his face, "I will surely clear your name."

Dongfang Wan'er suddenly grabbed the edge of the table, causing ripples in the teacup: "Who exactly is this young master? And what is his connection to the Dongfang family?" The candlelight suddenly flickered violently, casting a menacing shadow on the wall. The man turned the jade thumb ring on his thumb, the carving of a coiled dragon swallowing a pearl on it perfectly matching the pattern of the half-jade pendant his father had clutched before his death.

“To be honest,” he said, his Adam's apple bobbing, his voice seeming to drift from afar, “I am a confidant of the current emperor, and I have come here to investigate a secret matter involving the Dongfang family.” The hooting of an owl outside the courtyard startled him, causing him to abruptly stand up. “And you, perhaps, are the key to unraveling the mystery.”

Before the words were finished, a series of hurried footsteps shattered the silence. Dozens of assassins in black suddenly leaped down from the courtyard wall, their blades gleaming bluish in the moonlight. The man swiftly drew his soft sword from his waist; the jade pendant on the tassel struck the corner of a table and shattered in two. "It seems someone doesn't want the truth to surface," he said, deflecting an oncoming projectile with his sword, the blade's energy slicing through several drooping wisteria vines. "Young lady, the road ahead may be even more difficult."

Dongfang Wan'er retreated behind a pillar and reached for the silver needle hidden in her sleeve. She stared at the familiar swordplay of the man in the melee—it was clearly the Dongfang family's secret technique that her father had taught her, and now it was being used to protect her. Outside the courtyard, torches formed a sea of ​​fire, dyeing the sky an eerie crimson, as if the great fire that had burned her mother to death years ago was now burning before her eyes once more.

The night air was thick with the stench of rust and blood. Dongfang Wan'er leaned against the mottled moon gate, her knuckles white from straining. She took a deep breath, and the silver needles hidden in her sleeve gleamed with a cold, eerie blue light in the moonlight—they were concealed weapons tempered with deadly poison, the life-saving items her mother had given her before her death.

With a crisp whooshing sound, the silver needles shot out like meteors. Tiny black dots instantly appeared on the neck of the foremost assassin. He reached for his throat, but only managed a muffled whimper before collapsing to the ground. The other assassins, seeing this, flashed a hint of fear in their eyes, but quickly surrounded him, brandishing their longswords.

"Girl, take advantage of the chaos and leave through the back door. I'll be right behind you!" The man's voice rang out amidst the clanging of metal. His soft sword danced like a silver snake, each swing drawing a spray of blood, soaking his dark armor in crimson. Dongfang Wan'er watched his bloodied figure fight, a strange tremor rising in her heart, but reason quickly suppressed the worry. She knew this was not the time for sentimentality.

She crouched low, moving quickly along the shadows of the corner of the wall. Moonlight cast crisscrossing shadows of trees on the blue brick floor, like countless menacing monsters. Just as she reached the back door, a soft rustling of clothes made her stop abruptly. In the moonlight, she saw four dark figures emerge like ghosts from the shadows, their curved blades gleaming coldly.

"Young lady, where are you going?" The leader of the assassins licked his lips, the scar on his face contorting with the movement. "Come with us obediently, and perhaps you can leave with a whole corpse." Dongfang Wan'er did not answer. She slowly drew the soft whip from her waist—a weapon she had honed over the years in the power struggles within the household.

The whip lashed out like a serpent, wrapping around the wrist of an assassin. The man cried out in pain, his curved knife falling to the ground. Dongfang Wan'er used the momentum to leap forward, her knee slamming into his chest. But the other assassins immediately surrounded her, their blades grazing her cheeks, slicing off a few strands of her hair. She struggled to stay upright, fine beads of sweat forming on her forehead, her breathing becoming rapid.

At the critical moment, a silver sword light pierced the air. The man descended like a god, his soft sword transforming into a flurry of sword shadows. The assassins didn't even have time to react before their heads were severed. He sheathed his sword, his chest heaving violently, a few drops of blood splattered on his face, but his gaze remained resolute: "Go!"

The two men walked through a dark alley and finally saw an inconspicuous carriage parked at the street corner. The driver, wearing a straw hat, immediately raised his whip upon seeing them. The carriage sped along the cobblestone road, the wheels making a crisp sound as they rolled over the stones, startling the crows roosting by the roadside.

Dongfang Wan'er leaned against the carriage wall, gazing at the receding scenery outside the window, her heart filled with doubt and unease. The night wind blew in through the window, carrying a heavy smell of blood. "Young Master, what secret matter could have attracted so many assassins?" Her voice trembled slightly, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her skirt.

The man leaned against the carriage wall, closing his eyes as if to calm his breathing. After a long while, he opened his eyes, his gaze deep and unfathomable: "This matter involves the late emperor's will." He paused, lowering his voice, "Twenty years ago, before the late emperor passed away, he left behind a will, which is said to contain a major secret concerning the fate of the nation. And the Dongfang family seems to possess the key clues to unlocking the mystery of the will."

Dongfang Wan'er's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine. Having suffered neglect in the Dongfang family since childhood, she had never imagined her family would be involved in such a shocking secret. Outside the carriage, the night deepened, dark clouds obscuring the moon, plunging the surroundings into darkness. Their journey ahead was destined to be filled with unknown dangers and challenges.

The atmosphere inside the carriage was so heavy it was almost palpable. Dongfang Wan'er huddled in a corner, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the tear in her hem caused by a sharp blade.