Shen Nian's sleep was not very restful—or rather, it started off peaceful enough, but later, in his dreams, he saw the Shen family, Shen Yi, Wen shi, and even Old Madam Shen. His brows knitted together tightly, his chest feeling as though a heavy stone had been pressed upon it—dull and painful, making it hard to breathe.
He struggled to open his eyes, breaking free from the nightmare, drenched in sweat.
Shen Nian sat up in bed, head lowered, gasping for air. Sweat dripped continuously from his forehead, and sharp, piercing accusations rang in his ears.
He did not know how long passed before he felt a chill on his skin. His gaze drifted inadvertently and caught sight of a basin of ice not far away, the ice cubes still emitting cold vapor.
Ice was a rare commodity in hot weather, and not even everyone in the palace could enjoy it.
Knowing this was the Emperor's arrangement, Shen Nian tugged at the corner of his mouth, then let himself fall back onto the soft bed.
He stared at the gauze canopy embroidered with gold and silver threads, then through it at the exquisitely carved beams above. He had grown up on the frontier, where living habits were rough. He was usually quite particular about cleanliness, and on any other day, he would have certainly gone to wash himself after being so sticky. But now, he could not muster the energy to move—his fingers felt limp and powerless.
The night before, at the Zhenbei Marquis Mansion, he had not slept a wink either.
Old Madam Shen had always been in decent health, so he had long suspected that her sudden stroke was no accident.
Bai Feng was an imperial physician. After taking her pulse, he had not said there was anything unusual about Old Madam Shen's condition—only that she should be mindful of her diet. He had said nothing else, which meant no one had tampered with her food.
Given Old Madam Shen's advanced age, a sudden stroke could only have been triggered by some severe shock.
Moreover, Shen Qing had been acting strangely, as if he had matured overnight. He devoted himself wholly to caring for Old Madam Shen, and under the pretext of filial piety, he refused to let anyone else handle the medicine—from brewing to administering.
Shen Nian said nothing aloud, but he kept a close eye on all of this.
He had sent people to investigate Shen Qing's medicine-brewing—of course, these were men he had brought back from the North Frontier. He dared not use a single servant from the Zhenbei Marquis Mansion.
Up north, there were many men with ordinary faces who would blend into a crowd without drawing any attention—perfect for gathering intelligence. These men were skilled and adept at hiding, capable of crouching in one spot for an entire day. Investigating matters within the inner courtyard was well within their abilities.
The report came back: there was nothing wrong with how Shen Qing brewed or administered the medicine. During the brewing process, he often wept over the pot and would always taste it himself first.
That left only one explanation for Shen Qing's behavior: he was guarding against someone tampering with the medicine. And that someone was most likely their mother, Wen shi.
It seemed far-fetched, but Shen Nian could find no more reasonable explanation.
Wen shi had always come across as petty and blatantly partial—her thoughts could be read right off her face. She had grieved over Old Madam Shen's illness, but soon after, her grief had given way to delight over gaining control of the household.
A woman who wore her heart on her sleeve like that hardly seemed capable of such a deed.
Yet Shen Nian knew that one could never judge by appearances alone.
All these years, Old Madam Shen had devoted herself to Buddhism. He did not believe Wen shi had been idle in the Shen household. When he had questioned Old Madam Shen's personal attendants, they all said she had made no sound at night.
Shen Nian did not believe that for a moment. Unless a person died suddenly, they would always make some noise—some movement—to signal for help. The only reason these people remained silent was because they knew something and were too afraid to speak. And the one they feared could only be their master.
That left only Wen shi.
What he could not understand was why Wen shi would do such a thing to Old Madam Shen, and what exactly Shen Qing knew.
These past days, Shen Nian had kept up a calm exterior while secretly keeping an eye on Wen shi.
He was certain that if she had done anything, she would eventually slip up.
During this time, Wen shi had remained remarkably composed. On most days, she strolled around the mansion and occasionally visited Old Madam Shen.
Shen Nian did not want her to aggravate the old lady's condition further and had considered intervening. But before he could act, Shen Qing had already barred her from the room.
Faced with Shen Qing, Wen shi was both angry and frustrated, yet could not bring herself to scold him. In the end, she could only storm off in a huff.
Later, likely to regain her standing in Shen Qing's eyes, Wen shi knelt before the Bodhisattva three times a day, personally copying Buddhist scriptures and chanting prayers for Old Madam Shen's swift recovery.
Throughout the Zhenbei Marquis Mansion, everyone praised Wen shi for her filial devotion. Shen Nian had made no move, instead allowing her to continue as she pleased.
He spent most of his time in the palace, and whenever he returned to the Shen residence, he would only visit Old Madam Shen briefly before leaving.
Wen shi still looked upon him with undisguised disdain, and Shen Nian simply pretended not to notice.
That was, until last night, when he suddenly received word that there had been unusual activity in Wen shi's courtyard.
Shen Nian's heart sank at once. In the dead of night, for something to happen in Wen shi's courtyard that would make his informant use the word "unusual" — it had to be serious.
He rushed to Wen shi's courtyard as fast as he could, and there he saw with his own eyes a man walking out of her courtyard.
Shen Nian kicked the man right through the doorway and pinned him to the ground under his foot, which sent the maids into a shrieking frenzy.
When Wen shi emerged from her room, she was somewhat disheveled. She froze for a moment at the sight of Shen Nian, then readily admitted to everything she had done.
Shen Qing arrived soon after — perhaps he had been keeping an eye on Wen shi's courtyard all along and came the moment he got word, or perhaps he had heard the commotion. Either way, he was there too.
Wen shi showed not a trace of concern. Shen Nian asked only one word: "Why?"
He could not understand — Shen Yi had been dead barely a few months, his bones not yet cold — why would Wen shi do such a thing? Even before he saw it with his own eyes, he had not dared to imagine it.
Wen shi laughed at his question, her face full of scorn.
"Why can't I?" she said. "Ever since I married Shen Yi, I've slept alone in an empty room. I have done nothing that wrongs him. And you — what right do you have to question me?"
Shen Nian frowned. Wen shi fixed him with a venomous glare and said: "You actually think you're a member of the Shen family? You're nothing but a bastard. The title of Marquis Zhenbei was never meant for you — it belongs to Shen Qing. He is the true descendant of the Shen family. You are merely the son of a stable hand."
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