"Romantic?" Lou Xiyan arched an elegant brow, a trace of puzzlement flickering in his eyes. Zhuo Qing cursed herself inwardly—what if he didn't even know what romance meant?
As she berated herself in silence, a sudden tightness encircled her waist. Lou Xiyan's low murmur brushed against her ear, "I understand now."
Understand what?
Zhuo Qing's head shot up in shock, just in time to see a dazzlingly handsome face inching closer. Her instincts urged her to retreat, but the arm around her waist only tightened, robbing her of any escape. Her lips were suddenly enveloped in warmth.
"Mmm..." Her startled cry dissolved into his breath. Eyes wide, her mind blanked—he was kissing her.
He didn't intend to let her stay dazed for long. His breath carried his unique scent, his kiss gentle yet inescapable. The arms around her waist crushed her tightly against him, until she could hardly breathe. Only then did Lou Xiyan release her lips, his forehead resting against hers, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Now, will you marry me?"
Even now, Zhuo Qing's mind was in disarray. Wasn't he supposed to be as warm as jade? Polite, refined, and tender-hearted? Someone explain—what just happened? This was the palace gate! There were guards everywhere! And he kissed her right there, so brazenly?!
Their breaths still tangled, his perfectly shaped single-lidded eyes were narrow and slightly raised, inexplicably seductive and mesmerizing. She was losing her mind. This version of Lou Xiyan… was utterly irresistible. She had to admit, that kiss—it hadn't been bad at all.
The summer sunlight was already blinding, streaming through the half-opened window lattice and casting rays onto the bed curtains. The figure in bed yanked a silk quilt over her face, intending to return to her dream.
Bang! Bang! Bang! A deafening pounding on the door shattered the peace. Even covering her ears was useless; the knocking only grew louder. Zhuo Qing groaned and begrudgingly pulled herself out of her slumber.
Damn it, who the hell disturbs someone's dreams this early in the morning?!
Eyes still bleary, she stumbled to the door. The moment it opened, Fei'er—the maid Lou Xiyan assigned to care for her—rushed forward, apologizing anxiously: "Forgive me, Madam! I tried to stop her, but this young lady forced her way in!"
"It's fine, it's fine." Zhuo Qing waved her hand and caught sight of Gu Yun's grave expression. She immediately guessed—something must've happened again. Judging by her urgency, was it… another murder?
"Come with me." Grabbing her wrist, Gu Yun turned to pull her away.
"Wait—at least let me put on some clothes!" Zhuo Qing clutched her collar in alarm. She was only wearing a thin robe—not exactly indecent, but far from proper attire.
Gu Yun released her and urged, "Hurry."
Her face ashen, Gu Yun's tone carried a palpable tension. Zhuo Qing sensed the urgency, grabbed a plain white gown and quickly slipped it on. She patted her cheeks with the cold water left at her bedside.
Fei'er stepped forward to help her comb her hair, but Zhuo Qing waved her off, tying her long hair into a loose braid as she asked, "What happened?"
"Li Zhi is dead," Gu Yun replied gravely.
Dead?! Zhuo Qing froze. "When? What caused it?"
"Last night. Preliminary judgment suggests poisoning. Dan Yulan is interrogating the guards and officers on duty. He wants you to perform the autopsy—I'd like your opinion."
Poisoned in the Ministry of Justice's prison? The murderer had impressive means!
Hair tied, Zhuo Qing nodded. "I'm ready. Let's go."
They had only taken two steps when Zhuo Qing halted. Turning back to Fei'er, she instructed, "Go tell the Prime Minister that Qingmo and I are headed to the Ministry of Justice. We'll return this evening."
He had told her she could come and go as she pleased, that he would not interfere or restrict her freedom. Since he extended such trust, the least she could do was keep him informed.
"Yes, Madam," Fei'er responded with a nod.
Gu Yun raised a brow. Since when did Qing feel the need to report her whereabouts? She remembered how back in the day, Qing would often vanish into her work for days without a word, frustrating the elite man who had pursued her for over two years until he finally gave up.
But now she voluntarily explained her movements. Lou Xiyan truly was something else.
Were this any other time, she'd surely tease her about it—but today was not the day. Grasping Zhuo Qing's hand, the two of them rushed out of the residence.
Just outside the Prime Minister's estate, a pair of figures paused as they watched them leave in a flurry.
"A woman who flaunts herself in public so brazenly—do you intend to do nothing? Such a woman is unworthy of being your wife," came a low voice, thick with displeasure. Lou Muhai's darkened face betrayed his fury. He had only just returned and heard Lou Xiyan was planning to wed—and to think it was a woman so lacking in etiquette, so low in station!
Lou Xiyan simply smiled as he watched that slender figure in white. Even with minimal adornment, she radiated beauty. Completely unbothered by the storm behind her, he replied calmly, "I quite like her just the way she is."
If Qingling were like those so-called noble ladies—meek, cautious, demure—he wasn't sure he'd feel this overwhelming, uncontrollable urge to cherish her.
His unabashed favor only deepened Lou Muhai's disdain. "If you truly fancy her, make her your concubine. Princess Chaoyun is refined and elegant, and she's admired you for years. She's the ideal choice for your wife. As the Prime Minister and a member of the Lou family, you should be balancing these relationships—not acting on whim!"
Lou Xiyan gave a cold chuckle. He had done enough for the Lou family.
A flash of loathing and contempt crossed his eyes as he replied icily, "The Triennial Blessing Festival is in two months. I intend to marry Qingling after the celebration. I'll send the invitation to the General of Zhenxi's residence then."
"Lou Xiyan! I am your father!" Lou Muhai thundered.
Every time he returned, Lou Xiyan either ignored him or defied him. Why couldn't their relationship resemble that of other fathers and sons?
Father?
Lou Xiyan looked at the man who now shouted his title with indignation and mockery. Where had this so-called father been when Xiyan was born? When he grew up? When his mother died?
A sardonic smile tugged at his lips as he replied coldly, "I love this woman, and I will marry her—she and she alone. Unlike you, I, Lou Xiyan, do not need women to leverage my political career."
With that, he turned and strode out of the Prime Minister's residence, leaving behind a thunderstruck Lou Muhai, face dark and twisted in anguish, frozen as he stared at the slender departing figure.
The autopsy chamber at the Ministry of Justice was just as icy as before, the flickering oil lamps casting unsteady shadows. This was Zhuo Qing's second visit.
Ice blocks and coffins lined the room. Gu Yun sat casually atop a coffin, listening as Zhuo Qing began her forensic analysis.
"Based on rigor mortis, livor mortis, and other early postmortem signs, the estimated time of death is approximately ten to twelve hours ago."
"Uh… pardon me, Madam Lou…" a timid clerk huddled in the corner, pen in hand, blinked in confusion. "What… what is an 'hour'?"
His task was to record every word spoken during the autopsy in exact detail—especially since Master Dan had specifically instructed him to transcribe Madam Lou's words precisely. And now she'd thrown out a term he didn't recognize.
She'd forgotten about him—seeing Gu Yun had brought back old work habits, and the word had slipped out unconsciously.
After a moment's thought, Zhuo Qing corrected herself. "Just write five to six shichen."
"Oh," the scribe quickly scribbled it down.
"The deceased's face is dark bluish-black, the eyes bulging. Foul blood has oozed from the mouth, nose, and eyes. The skin is a pale blue, fingernails darkened, and the abdomen slightly distended."
No autopsy had yet been performed. Zhuo Qing—