"Miss Shen is truly formidable. She's brought this vicious mother and daughter into obedience!"
The laughter of the onlookers surged in waves. The sugar painting on Shen Weiwan's fingertips gradually melted, and the syrup dripped down the phoenix's wings onto the bluestone slab. Xiao Yu hadn't known when to hand over a moon-white handkerchief with a small black bamboo embroidered on the corner. "Did it get stuck on your hand?"
"Hmm." She rubbed her fingertips as she watched Liu, tied up like a dumpling by the yamen runners with straw ropes. The ropes dug into the brocade, revealing the layers of fat around her waist. In her previous life, when she was beaten to death in the snow, Liu had stood in the corridor, draped in a fox fur coat, watching with the same cold, rope-like gaze. But now, watching her enemy fall into the dust, she didn't feel the joy she had expected, only a ripple of emptiness.
"What are you thinking about?" Xiao Yu's voice mingled with the sandalwood incense from the copper burner in the corner of the courtroom. "When your cousin was dragged away, the dust she kicked up by her skirt was even more decent than her body."
Chen Weiwan looked up at him, the sunlight filtering through the lattice windows shattering into gold foil on his shoulders. "I was thinking, after they leave, the General's Mansion should invite the high monks from the Fahua Temple to perform a ritual."
Xiao Yu raised his eyebrows, his dark jade eyes reflecting the corners of her mouth stained with syrup: "To save Liu's soul?"
"No," she tilted her head and smiled, dimples forming at the corners of her eyes. "I'm praying for the soul of the little yellow dog I raised in my previous life—I didn't take good care of it during the winter, and it froze to death in the woodshed."
At this moment, the prefect walked down the courtroom, the hem of his crimson robe brushing against the hem of Shen Weiwan's skirt. He rubbed his hands together and bowed repeatedly, frowning at the jarring sound of the jade belt buckle at his waist. "Miss Shen, if it weren't for the old account books you dug up from the treasury, this case would have been incredibly difficult. Now that Liu has been brought to justice, the people are praising you as the 'female Zhuge Liang'!"
Shen Weiwan waved her hand and pulled an oil-paper bag from her sleeve. The words "Shen's Secret Recipe" were scribbled crookedly on the paper, the edges stained translucently by honey. "You're too kind, sir. I'm just taking back what belongs to me. This is the osmanthus cake my mother made herself. Would you like to try it?"
The prefect stared at the writing on the oil-paper, suddenly remembering that twenty years ago, the old general had won a battle and sent someone to deliver this very oil-paper-wrapped osmanthus cake. His Adam's apple rolled twice, and his fingertips trembled as he took the oil-paper package. "Thank you, Miss... Your humble servant... Your humble servant will savor it carefully."
As Chuntao left Shuntian Prefecture, she was clutching a bunch of wildflowers: red peonies and white roses, all forced upon her by the onlookers. As she walked, she chirped, "Look, young lady! Butcher Zhang's daughter gave me the largest peony, and Lady Li Xiu gave me two roses as well..."
Shen Weiwan plucked a dewy rose and pinned it in her hair, then turned back to look toward the prison. Liu's wails were no longer audible; only Shen Ruorou's words, "I won't go to the ancestral temple," lingered on the wind, broken into tiny syllables.
"Chun Tao," she suddenly stopped and watched the returning birds flying across the sky, "I'm going to Jingxin Temple to deliver some things."
"What are you giving me?" Chun Tao came closer, and the jasmine hairpin in her hair rubbed against Shen Weiwan's shoulder.
"Ten pieces of the coarsest homespun cloth and twenty kilograms of solid cabbage seeds." Shen Weiwan raised a sly smile, "Tell the abbot to have Shen Ruorou personally go to the fields to cultivate. When the cabbage harvest is full of three baskets, then you can exchange it for a meal of brown rice."
Chun Tao laughed so hard that she almost dropped the flowers in her arms. Xiao Yu came over, leading the white horse. He reached out to brush the petals from Shen Weiwan's hair. When his fingertips touched her earlobe, it felt slightly hot. "Where else do you want to go? I will accompany you."
Shen Weiwan looked into his dark jade eyes, suddenly grabbed the saddle and leaped off. The white horse snorted, making the bluestone clatter underfoot. "Let's go to the West Market! I heard there's a new candied haws stall, buy five and get one free!"
The sound of horse hooves shattered the evening tranquility. In a teahouse on the corner, a storyteller clapped his hands and roared, "...Speaking of this Miss Shen, she outsmarted her wicked aunt, toyed with a scumbag, and now has sent that vicious mother and daughter to—"
"Wrong, wrong!" interrupted Wang the butcher, his pork seller, pointing his greasy finger in the direction of the court. "Sending him to Three Thousand Miles of Exile or to Jingxin Nunnery is more satisfying than going to hell!"
The storyteller roared with laughter, his wake-up stick slamming against the table, shaking it. "Yes, yes, yes! This is what they call good and evil will eventually be rewarded, and karma will prevail. If you don't believe me, just look up and see, heaven spares no one!"
The setting sun cast Shen Weiwan's shadow on the bluestone slabs. She nibbled on a candied haws she had just bought, watching the Seventh Prince's profile, gentle as a painting in the afterglow. The cries of jackdaws in the snow from her past life still seemed to linger in her ears, but now the sweetness on her tongue and the warmth beside her were a stark reminder that she could finally walk this life with a smile. As for those who owed her? They were just pebbles at her feet, to be kicked away. Even a glance back seemed a waste of energy.
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