1. Jinling’s Rain Puts All Things to Rest

Chapter 1: Jinling's Mist and Rain, All Things Laid to Rest

A misty drizzle fell outside the window, and the delicate scent of osmanthus drifted into the embroidered boudoir.

Gu Yuanzhi sat upright before her embroidery frame, her slender fingers guiding the needle as a painting of flowers and birds gradually took shape.

She lived up to her name—beautiful in a quiet, unassuming way.

Like a fresh lotus on still water in the misty rain, or a clump of orchids by the riverbank. Even without a smile, her bright apricot eyes held a quiet elegance and refinement.

Yet those gentle eyes would sometimes betray a flicker of detachment and loneliness—a spirit that chafed against the confines of the inner quarters.

She had not been born with a placid nature. She came from the Gu clan of Gusu, a family famed for poetry and scholarship, with generations of official glory.

Her father, a member of the Hanlin Academy, served as Vice Minister of Personnel and also as a Grand Secretary. He was a rigid Confucian moralist who raised his daughters by the *Admonitions for Women*.

Learning was merely an ornament to embellish a woman's family name; literary fame served only to land a good match.

Fortunately, her marriage was a true match made in heaven. When Mei Hezhi was posted to Gusu years ago, he used official business as an excuse to visit so often he nearly wore out the Gu family's doorstep.

Since their marriage, her husband had been stationed at the frontier, and letters had flown back and forth without pause—until this past month, when not a single word came.

She sighed softly and picked up the silver scissors to trim the lamp wick.

She recalled a night months earlier when her mother-in-law had taken her manuscripts and, page by page, fed them into the bronze brazier before her eyes: "Good child, I know your talent. Let's pick out some proper poems to have printed—that would be a fine and honorable thing."

The firelight flickered across Gu Yuanzhi's pale face. She lowered her lashes, too numb to watch, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. These manuscripts were the labor of her heart, every word weighed and polished for so long—yet her mother-in-law had consigned them to the flames.

Her mother-in-law patted Gu Yuanzhi's hand, her tone growing serious.

"But those storybooks you write—a woman disguising herself as a man to enter officialdom, refusing a prince's hand, then retreating to the mountains—are far too scandalous for the world. If the public ever learned they came from the General's Lady's hand, it would ruin your reputation and, worse, become a liability for your husband's official career."

"Lingxuan—that's the heroine's courtesy name. Mother burned those drafts for your own good." Her mother-in-law spoke gently, with a trace of pity still in her eyes.

Gu Yuanzhi had been raised from childhood on family precepts, knowing only how to be a proper noble daughter of a great house. She didn't know how to resist. No one had ever taught her. Perhaps that literary kindred spirit from years past had once said something? But he had changed.

After that, the hermit scholar Han Zhi of Jinling vanished without a trace, leaving only Madam Gu, sequestered deep in the General's Mansion.

Her days were spent at needlework, managing the household as a proper mistress of the house.

She still wrote, but no longer for anyone to read. Men couldn't abide women standing beside them in the world, so they locked women's talents away in the inner chambers.

Only her husband appreciated her.

When he was home, he would lay out paper and grind ink for her, praise her poems with a smile, and drape a robe over her shoulders when she grew tired of writing. He supported her, treating her with flawless kindness in everything.

But he had also said that literary works were best enjoyed between husband and wife—why should they be shared with the outside world?

If anyone else ever cherished her writing the way he did, Mei Hezhi would be afraid—even jealous.

"Yuanzhi's talent is for me alone to appreciate. No one in this world understands you better than I do."

She curved her lips into a smile in return, but bitterness crept into her heart. Of all the things you once said, how many have you actually kept?

The fine rain slanted through the air, the night was like water, and even the osmanthus scent carried a chill.

Gu Yuanzhi pulled her thoughts back and opened her dressing case, where half a sheet of plain paper lay still.

Ten years ago, on a day when snow blanketed Gusu, she had taken shelter in a pavilion and found a forgotten copy of *The Peony Pavilion*. Seeing half a lyric written on its pages, she had written a matching verse in response. From then on, she exchanged letters with the book's owner, and they became each other's confidants.

Later, Mei Hezhi claimed that he was the one who had exchanged poems with her, and Gu Yuanzhi believed it without question.

But where was the young man who had once written, "I pity your talent, which surpasses men—why must you be confined to the boudoir?"

Had Mei Hezhi changed? Or... had he never changed in the first place?

All her pent-up thoughts were given over to the misty rain of Jinling.

...

Flowers bloom only to fade. A few days later, the Embroidered Uniform Guard surrounded the General's Mansion, swords drawn.

"By decree: the Western Pacification General Mei Hezhi, having conspired with the rebel Prince An and fled, is guilty of a capital crime. The Northern Bastille, by oral order of the inner court, is to arrest the criminal's family, confiscate all property, and throw them into the imperial prison."

In a daze, Gu Yuanzhi was loaded onto the prison cart. She turned back for one last look at the three gilt characters reading "General's Mansion," choking back her tears. This towering wealth and glory—whose family name would it carry now?

The noise of the streets crashed into her ears, wave after wave.

She closed her eyes and steadied herself, her heart gone numb.

The imperial prison was a hell that devoured men. Raised in luxury, she might not survive several rounds of torture by the Embroidered Uniform Guard before her beauty faded into death.

Perhaps heaven took pity on her, for midway, a group of officials stopped the prison cart, denouncing the Northern Bastille for overstepping its authority on the strength of the Directorate of Ceremonial's warrant.

As the two sides were at a standoff, an imperial edict arrived.

"All prisoners are to be transferred to the Ministry of Justice for custody, pending review by the Censorate."

She had escaped the brutal tortures of the guards, only to face the censors' interrogations.

In the dim twilight, everything was a blur of gray. She couldn't see the road ahead, nor know where she was being taken.

As she fretted over her uncertain future, the middle-aged official walked past the two Mei elders and came straight to Gu Yuanzhi, giving a slight bow.

"Madam, forgive me. My master has ordered that the cart be fitted with a curtain—first, to shield against wind and dust, and second, to preserve the General's Mansion's dignity."

Gu Yuanzhi half-opened her drowsy eyes and said nothing. What use was this dignity now? It couldn't save her, nor could it save her family.

She allowed a thick curtain to shroud the prison cart, cutting off the stares of passersby, and felt slightly better for it.

But who was behind this—someone bold enough to snatch prisoners from the Embroidered Uniform Guard's hands?

She understood nothing of the scheming ways of officials. Yet she could tell that the curtain's fabric was fine and delicate, hardly the sort used by government offices—it seemed more like a private household item.

She sighed, and through a gap in the curtain, suddenly caught sight of a figure standing at the street corner.

The person held an oil-paper umbrella, gazing from afar, as if looking at Gu Yuanzhi.

For reasons she could not explain, her heart gave an inexplicable start, and she hastily lowered the curtain.

She had no time to dwell on it before she was escorted into the Ministry of Justice's prison.

......

For days, no one came to question her. Gu Yuanzhi sat on the stone bed with her knees drawn up, weariness etched between her brows.

Beside her came the sharp sound of rats gnawing at flesh—piercing to the ear. She could not help but wonder: were they gnawing at a prisoner? Would she be next? The irritating sound would not stop, sawing into her mind like a broad axe splitting her skull, squeezing out bloody juices that seemed about to surge from her nose and throat.

Golden stars burst before her eyes. It hurt. Gu Yuanzhi pressed her hand to her forehead and gasped softly, her breath stifled and dull.

She had not eaten for three days. Her chest felt hollow, her mouth tasted bitter, and sometimes she coughed up flecks of blood—but she could not give in. Just once, and the blood would not stop.

And because she had been unable to sleep night after night, her headache had become unbearable.

Too filthy. Too filthy. This place was so foul she couldn't bear to stay a moment longer.

A sliver of light seeped through the wooden bars, and she opened her eyes groggily.

The cell door was shoved open, and a bailiff's impatient voice rang out: "You in there, get out here! The magistrate's about to hold court!"

Gu Yuanzhi braced herself against the cold stone wall and slowly straightened up. After sitting so long, her legs had gone numb, and she nearly stumbled and fell. She lowered her head and calmly smoothed her lapels and sleeves, but she couldn't brush away the mud and water stains.

In the past, she had been so fastidious about cleanliness! Yet now she had to wear a worn prison uniform someone else had worn before—she didn't even know if the previous prisoner had been male or female. At the mere thought, a chill of disgust rose in her heart, and she nearly retched.

Seeing she still had the mind to tidy herself up, the two bailiffs moved in from either side to grab her arms, but before they could even touch her sleeves, she dodged them.

"I can walk on my own."

The bailiffs withdrew their hands awkwardly and just led the way, one in front and one behind.

In the narrow corridor, iron chains clattered along the ground.

Her shackled feet made walking difficult. Seeing filthy water ahead, she carefully tried to step around it, but the bailiff behind her noticed. With a harsh shout, he shoved her, and she lost her balance and landed in the mire.

Her mind went numb with shock. A hundred bitter feelings surged in Gu Yuanzhi's heart. Her cloth shoes squelching in the filth, she could only continue walking in humiliation.

The courtroom was solemn. She knelt on the cold floor, her knees aching, waiting for the examining official to question her.

Wang Congzhi, the Right Vice Minister of Justice, sat at the side desk, while a young official sat at the main desk.

He wore a jade belt hook, a black gauze hat, wide sleeves, and black boots. His bearing was tall and upright, with an imposing, majestic air.

Thick case files lay before him. His fingertips were just turning a page, his gaze cast down, his handsome features carrying a distant aloofness. He never once glanced at Gu Yuanzhi.

After who knows how long, pale autumn light leaked through the skylight, casting long shadows westward.

She waited until her knees ached before she felt it—a deeply oppressive, profound gaze falling upon her.

Gu Yuanzhi pressed her lips together but kept her back straight, showing no fear, like an orchid standing proud against the frost.

"Lady Gu, raise your head." A clear, crisp voice came from the bench.

Gu Yuanzhi met his gaze directly, their eyes locking, and her heart suddenly sank.

It was him—Xu Hanyun, the head of the Censorate's remonstrance officials. Gu Yuanzhi had seen him once from afar during last year's autumn hunt. He was cold and indifferent by nature, impeaching even his own fellow disciples and juniors.

Because he handled cases with ruthless severity, the powerful and noble hated him for fabricating charges and twisting the law. Even at the pinnacle of officialdom, he couldn't shake the label of "pen-pushing clerk."

She hastily averted her gaze. Whether this Iron-faced Censor's presence at the trial was a blessing or a curse, she didn't know.

"General Mei is a pillar of the court. Surely those who frequent his household are loyal and upright men of the realm. Could you, madam, share the register of your acquaintances with this official?"

Gu Yuanzhi thought carefully, then replied with neither humility nor arrogance: "Your Honor, my husband is a military man, unskilled in cunning. His guests are mostly old subordinates, all recorded in the visitor log. You may review it at any time."

Xu Hanyun's brow didn't move, and he said flatly: "Mei Hezhi was on intimate terms with Prince An, privately purchasing warhorses from the Northern Di at great expense. Your correspondence with him was frequent—how could you not have known? You're clearly a co-conspirator, intending to shield him."

Gu Yuanzhi replied calmly: "My husband and I are often apart. Our letters were merely exchanges of concern, trivial matters of romance—surely that's only human nature. Must private matters between husband and wife be aired in open court—"

The gavel struck the desk with a sharp crack, cutting off Gu Yuanzhi's words. The entire hall fell silent.

She flinched in fright, her pale hands twisting beneath her sleeves, not knowing which remark had provoked this jade-faced demon.

"Enough. You need only answer: knew or did not know. No need for argument." Xu Hanyun's tone turned suddenly harsh, cold as thin frost. "This interrogation concerns the case, not a chance to hear how devoted you and your husband are. Lady Gu, you are a criminal awaiting judgment—do you still think yourself a noble of the great houses?"

The clerk beside him paused his brush and clicked his tongue inwardly. This was the first time he'd heard Lord Xu speak to a female prisoner in such a tone, his gaze sharp as a knife.

"This common woman does not know." Gu Yuanzhi's lashes drooped, her sorrowful expression all the more pitiful and endearing.

But Xu Hanyun was not a man swayed by beauty. His face stayed wooden as he held the case file without turning a page.

Vice Minister Wang, seeing she was impervious to persuasion and would yield nothing useful, could no longer contain himself. He barked: "How insolent! Stubborn and unrepentant—it seems without torture, you won't confess."

Gu Yuanzhi looked directly at Xu Hanyun at the main desk: "This common woman does not seek to evade punishment to survive, but to seek the truth. If my husband is guilty, I am willing to share his punishment, to honor our bond as husband and wife. If he has been wronged, I humbly beg Your Honor to investigate thoroughly, to clear my husband's name and give my entire family justice!"

As her words ended, Gu Yuanzhi prostrated herself, pressing her forehead to the ground.

But Xu Hanyun was cold-hearted. He looked at the frail figure below the bench and was silent for a long time.

After a moment, a mocking smile curled at the corner of his lips: "Madam Gu possesses such integrity that this official sees you in a new light. In that case, it would be a pity to disregard your devoted affection for General Mei."

So-called integrity was merely the ignorance of one who had never known pain. Her spirit, wasted on a reckless man who'd dragged her down, was truly foolish.

Vice Minister Wang caught on and said to the attendants: "Men, bring the finger presses!"

Two bailiffs closed in on her, bearing the blood-stained instruments of torture.

The excruciating pain of ten fingers—how could Gu Yuanzhi endure it? But confess or not, death was the sentence either way. How much worse could it get?

A chill crept up her spine, and she closed her eyes in resignation.