A thin mist hovered over the river outside Lin'an City in the depths of the third watch, draping the silent night like a gossamer veil.
"Ghost! A female ghost!" A blood-curdling scream shattered the night's tranquility, echoing across the desolate riverbank.
Su Xingyao stood motionless on the shore, staring numbly at the figure frantically fleeing under the moonlight. Glancing down at herself, she saw her sodden clothes festooned with river weeds, cold water dripping steadily from her dark tresses.
"Every debt has its creditor! Go find Chancellor Zhao if you must! He's the one who sold you to me!" The man screamed between gasps as he ran, terror evident in his voice as he kept looking back. "Don't—don't come any closer!"
A ghost?
Su Xingyao stood frozen, her thoughts in chaos. She clearly remembered being Lady Zhao, the lawfully wedded wife of Zhao Hengde. That fateful day at the Peach Blossom House, he had sworn to redeem her as his principal wife, disregarding her status as a courtesan.
But today...
Her memories lay shattered like a broken mirror. The wine Zhao Hengde had offered her, promising to help establish her own business. In her haze, she had signed the papers, only to wake and find her signature on a slave contract.
"When did I become mere merchandise to be traded at will?" she murmured bitterly.
Stumbling to the Zhao mansion, before she could even knock, terrified screams erupted from within: "Ghost!"
Zhao Hengde's face turned ashen, his legs giving way beneath him. "You—you drowned..." He clutched the doorframe desperately, his voice trembling. "It was Wei Su'e's idea! All Wei Su'e's doing! Go find her!"
Before his words faded, burly servants dragged her outside. The heavy vermillion gates slammed shut with a resounding "bang," leaving her sprawled ungracefully in the mud.
At dawn, hollow drum beats echoed outside the Court of Justice.
"When an imperial official drugs his lawful wife and tricks her into signing a slave contract, where is the justice in heaven's law?" Her voice was cold and resolute as she faced the man lounging indolently before the bench.
"This prince is far too occupied for domestic squabbles," Prince Jiang Yichuan, known throughout the capital as the Prince of Jing, didn't even bother to lift his eyelids as he sprawled lazily on his couch.
"So the rumors are true. The Prince of Jing, Chief Justice of the Court, is nothing but a pleasure-seeking wastrel." Her lips curved in a cold smile.
He finally raised his eyes to meet hers, his gaze sharp as a blade: "Case dismissed. You may leave."
The gates closed firmly before her. In the dim light of dawn, she stood alone outside the courthouse, water still dripping from her form—though whether river water or tears, even she couldn't tell.