Chapter 449

Zhu Qizhen dismissed everyone with a few words, even sending Wang Zhen away without having him stay behind as usual, leaving the hall under Cao Jixiang's control.

Cao Jixiang eagerly poured tea and ground ink for Zhu Qizhen.

Yun Yan strode in and reported: "Your Majesty, Pan Yun has been imprisoned in the Imperial Prison."

Zhu Qizhen tapped his fingers lightly on the table and asked: "Did she utter any resentful words?"

Yun Yan paused before repeating every word she had spoken on the journey, verbatim.

Zhu Qizhen pursed his lips and said irritably: "Is she so certain her father was framed?"

Yun Yan lowered his head.

Zhu Qizhen turned to look at Cao Jixiang: "Cao Banban, you tell me—were Xue Xuan and Pan Hong framed?"

Cao Jixiang bowed his back slightly and whispered: "Whether they were framed depends on whether the two cases from that year were unjust. If they were unjust cases, then they were framed; if not, then what injustice is there?"

Zhu Qizhen rose and paced, his face as dark as water: "I personally assigned Pan Hong to reexamine those cases. Two simple matters were turned into a storm across the court—even if innocent, they are guilty of negligence!"

"Yes!"

Zhu Qizhen: "If we reopen them now, won't it stir up another storm of blood and chaos?"

Yun Yan said nothing—he only followed orders.

Cao Jixiang opened his mouth but didn't know how to respond. In his heart, he naturally believed they should return to the right path—let the storms come, restoring order was the true principle.

But… he had been distanced by the Emperor multiple times for speaking plainly, while Wang Zhen regained favor—this taught him some words must never be spoken outright.

Cao Jixiang thought quickly and whispered: "If Your Majesty cannot decide, why not consult the Grand Secretariat?"

Zhu Qizhen frowned in thought, realizing this was indeed a viable method. He delayed meeting Pan Yun and instead summoned the Grand Secretariat first.

Upon hearing it was Xue Xuan's case, part of the Grand Secretariat supported reopening it, part opposed, and another faction believed it could be reopened—but only after the spring imperial examinations.

"The urgent matter is the spring examinations. Nothing now compares to selecting officials through the imperial exams."

"Indeed, the spring examinations end tomorrow, Your Majesty. Why not discuss this after they conclude?"

Someone said: "Pan Hong's daughter is still locked in the Imperial Prison—how can we delay?"

"She's merely imprisoned. Besides, she fled and hid in the wild—she is already guilty. Your Majesty, why not first punish her for deceiving the throne?"

"Hmph, you haven't even investigated the case yet and you want to punish her? Then what's the point of investigating? In my view, release her first. What harm is a girl of ten or so to you? We can always bring her back when we need to investigate."

"What if she runs again?"

"She came forward herself to denounce the injustice—why would she run? Before this, who even knew Pan Hong had a daughter living in exile?"

"Your Majesty, though this girl has committed a crime, she possesses filial piety. Great Ming governs the realm through filial virtue—she deserves commendation—"

"Ha! You want to reward a lawbreaker? Your brain's been kicked by a donkey!"

"Your brain's been kicked by a donkey—and your whole family's too! Everyone knows how unjust Xue Xuan and Pan Hong's cases are—especially you of the Censorate, who watch but don't investigate, then turn around and frame your own people—your brains are growing in your trousers—"

"Y-you—you insult our scholarly dignity—"

"Better than you all eating your meals and doing nothing, with hearts of wolves and livers of dogs!"

Zhu Qizhen propped his chin and watched them—he knew it would be like this, which was precisely why he hated asking the Grand Secretariat for opinions.

Zhu Qizhen lowered his gaze and thought. The debate ultimately ended in nothing.

Pan Yun was given a solitary cell: a brick bed with straw on it, a relatively clean floor, a table and stool, and in the corner, a chamber pot.

As soon as Pan Yun stepped inside, she decided: "I'm going to fast."

Pan Xiaohei, who had slipped in through the high window ahead of her, snorted inwardly: 【Didn't you bring plenty of food?】 Pan Yun: 【What do you know? Look at this environment—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!】

【In the mountains, I've abandoned fasting half the time—but this time, I'm certain I'll succeed. If I don't seize this chance, I'm unworthy of being called a cultivation genius!】

Pan Yun stepped forward, swept all the straw off the bed, then grabbed a handful and wiped the bed clean.

Seeing her so compliant, as if planning to stay long-term, Yun Yan didn't linger. He ordered guards to watch her closely, then went to report.

After cleaning, Pan Yun placed a meditation cushion on the bed, then arranged her robes and sat cross-legged.

She exhaled, scanning the prison. The cells opposite and on both sides were empty; only at the far end could she make out a figure.

Pan Yun nodded in satisfaction: 【Looks like Yun Yan took care of me—gave me a good solitary cell. When I get out, I'll give him a talisman of safety.】

【Talk about getting out first.】

Pan Yun: 【Don't worry, it's no big deal—worst case, I'm exiled to some remote place. But a safety talisman? I've got plenty.】

【So quiet,】 Pan Yun sighed. 【Perfect place for cultivation.】

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Saying this, she closed her eyes, activated her technique, and began to cultivate.

When she opened her eyes again, the prison was dark, with only faint candlelight seeping in from outside.

A bowl sat by the cell door—porridge water inside. On the ground beside it lay a steamed bun.

It must have been brought while she was cultivating.

Pan Yun was quite curious about the prison food. She lifted her robe, stepped down, and approached curiously.

She sniffed the porridge—it smelled sour. She pressed the bun with her fingers: gray, hard, and stiff—perfect for use as a projectile.

She picked it up and sniffed it—also sour.

She stared in disbelief: "In this cold spring, how did you manage to make both the porridge and the bun go sour? How many days have you left them out?"

Pan Yun looked up, staring straight at the jailer who had been secretly watching her: "Your prison is so lavish you cook extra food just to let it rot and serve it to prisoners?"

Jailer: "... Shut up. Say another word, and tomorrow you won't even get this porridge and bun."

Pan Yun shook her head and sighed: "Alas, morals have declined. Not only do you bully the weak—you waste food."

Pan Yun didn't eat. But she wasn't worried about waste.

In this prison, no food could be kept overnight—unless stored in her space.

Sure enough, shortly after she sat back on the bed, she heard rustling and squeaking.

Pan Yun opened her eyes and saw three or four rats frantically fighting over her bun and porridge.

She propped her chin on her hand, watching with great interest, until footsteps halted outside her cell door, at which point she lifted her eyelids to look.

Across a bar of iron, a pale-faced middle-aged man in a deep maroon brocade robe stared at her without expression.

His face was broad and square, his complexion fair, his bearing imposing; had it not been for the malice radiating from his brow, Pan Yun might have thought him a good man.

He looked so deceivingly virtuous—no wonder the young Emperor trusted him so deeply, even knowing he was deceived, still could not help drawing near and believing him.

Pan Yun's lips curled upward in a smile. "You must be Wang Zhangyin. Such a distinguished guest gracing my humble cell—what an honor. Please, come in and sit."

Good night

(End of Chapter)