Prince Bei Jing of the Red Chamber, starting from saving Qin Keqing

The year-end sun hung obliquely on the eaves, and golden rays streamed through the carved windows into the warm corridors of the palace, falling on Shui Rong's shoulders and adding a touch of cozy warmth.

He stood under the veranda, gazing at the bare branches of the crabapple tree in the courtyard, and sighed softly to himself.

With less than a month until Lunar New Year's Eve, the palace was already bustling with the preparations for the holiday. In such a state, the Emperor would certainly not be in a hurry to expedite the confiscation of property in the south.

Such deeply entrenched wealthy families are difficult to investigate and seize; even a small mistake can have far-reaching consequences. In just twenty or thirty days, it would be difficult not only to take stock of their money and assets, but also to identify all those involved.

Shui Rong raised his hand, his fingertips gently stroking the inside of his sleeve. The outline of the gilded tiger tally was clearly visible through two layers of brocade. The cool metallic texture and the warmth of the sun intertwined on his fingertips, still making him feel somewhat dazed and incredulous.

He still couldn't understand why his elder brother would actually bestow the military tally upon him.

Just as I was deep in thought, a steward's soft voice came from outside the mansion.

Shui Rong looked up and saw that on the long street outside the palace gate, the Jia family's familiar blue silk curtained carriage was quietly parked next to the red-wheeled carriage of the Prince of Beijing's mansion. The copper bells on the carriage shaft swayed gently in the wind, but there was no trace of the usual liveliness.

He walked slowly over, and as soon as he reached the carriage, Jia She hurriedly jumped down from the Jia family carriage. His dark blue court robe made his face look even more ashen, and the white hair at his temples was particularly conspicuous in the sunlight.

"Your Highness!"

Jia She stepped forward, bowed deeply, his back bent low, and his voice was filled with barely concealed urgency and humility. "Please, Your Highness, come to my residence for a chat. The Old Madam and the ladies-in-waiting are all waiting for your instructions."

Shui Rong stood still, simply waving his hand slowly, his brows furrowed with a hint of seriousness, his tone calm yet brooking no argument:

"Lord She, there's no need for further words. There's absolutely no room for maneuver in Jia Lian's case. Every single one of his crimes has solid evidence. Since His Majesty has already issued the decree for his execution, he is doomed. Even if I had the will, I would be powerless to change the situation."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Jia She's instantly deathly pale face, and added,

"Think about it, Wen Zonghan was a high-ranking official who served two dynasties and held real power. His son, Wen Ziyu, also committed this crime and still could not escape the punishment of being slowly sliced ​​to death. What chance do you have for your Jia family?"

"The Emperor has long suspected us, and now Jia Lian has run right into the line of fire. How can we show him any mercy?"

Jia She's body trembled, and he staggered back half a step, his hands tightly gripping the hem of his court robes, his knuckles turning white, his voice trembling with tears:

"Rong-ge'er, think of another way... No matter how useless Jia Lian is, he's still my eldest son!"

"The old lady weeps day and night, so anxious she refuses to eat or drink, begging only that Your Highness would put in a good word for him before the Emperor, even if it means saving his life intact!"

As he spoke, he was about to kneel down when he was quickly stopped by the servant beside Shui Rong.

"Master She, please stop."

Shui Rong's tone softened slightly, but remained firm. "I absolutely cannot save Jia Lian. This time, your Jia family has committed such a sordid act—buying and selling people. Every single one of these acts has touched the emperor's scales. His Majesty has been intending to punish the aristocratic families, and this time he will surely draw blood to establish his authority and serve as a warning to the court and the public."

"If I plead for him again, not only will I fail to save Jia Lian, but I will also bring trouble upon myself and lose the last shred of dignity for your Jia family."

He turned slightly to avoid Jia She's pleading gaze and said in a deep voice:

"I will not go to the manor. A few days ago, in order to protect your Jia family from being implicated, I spoke up for you in front of the Emperor, which displeased him. This time, I need to restrain myself and dare not interfere in court affairs again."

He paused, then looked at Jia She, his eyes filled with earnestness.

"Let me give you a piece of advice: if you want to preserve the foundation of the Jia family, you should cultivate Jia Cong or Bao Yu. Bao Yu is intelligent, and Jia Cong is honest. If you nurture them well, you might be able to revive the Jia family."

"These days, you should keep your mansion gates closed, refuse visitors, and avoid contact with outside officials to prevent bringing trouble upon yourself."

"Also, tell the Old Madam that the death of Jia Lian is enough to atone for the Jia family's crimes. If she insists on pleading for leniency, it will only backfire and deepen the Emperor's suspicions. In that case, the entire Jia family might be brought down. Do you understand?"

Jia She stood there, stunned, his face drained of color, his lips trembling, unable to utter a word for a long time.

How could he not know that what Prince Bei Jing said was true?

The old lady was constantly weeping and forcing him to beg for favors. He had held onto a sliver of hope, wanting to sound out the Prince of Bei Jing's opinion. But now, hearing Shui Rong's words, he knew that his last hope had been shattered.

He lowered his head deeply, the wrinkles on his forehead creased together, and his voice was hoarse: "Your Highness's teachings, I...I have remembered them."

Seeing that he had taken her words to heart, Shui Rong turned to prepare to get into the carriage, but then remembered something and turned back to give her some instructions:

"The Royal Academy will be opening soon; send Baoyu to enroll."

"You are the head of the Jia family. You should know better than anyone the many problems plaguing the household—extravagance, unworthy descendants, and complicated official duties. If you don't reform these practices, the family will inevitably fall into ruin sooner or later."

"Taking advantage of this turmoil, we can make some adjustments, lay off some useless servants, and restrain the words and deeds of our descendants. Perhaps we can still turn the tide."

"If you encounter any difficulties in the future, you can come directly to the Prince's Mansion to find me. I will be staying at the mansion these days and will not be going out."

Jia She kowtowed deeply, his forehead pressed against the cold bluestone slab, his voice choked with emotion: "Thank you for your guidance, Your Highness. I...I will remember it forever."

When he looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed, but there was no longer any pleading in his eyes, only a heavy heart and helplessness.

He knew that Prince Bei Jing had already done everything he could, giving him a clear path and saving him face. To continue entangled would only be to lose his composure.

He immediately straightened up, bowed to Shui Rong, slowly turned around, and walked unsteadily back to the carriage of the Jia family mansion.

Shui Rong watched his retreating figure, sighed softly, and then bent down to get into her carriage.

The curtains fell, blocking out the sunlight and instantly darkening the interior.

He leaned back on the soft couch, his fingertips still tracing the tiger tally hidden in his sleeve, pondering to himself:

Although the plot took a few detours due to his intervention—such as the tiger tally bestowed by his elder brother and the establishment of the Royal Academy—the overall situation remained unchanged: Jia Lian was destined to die, and the Jia family would suffer a severe blow.

It's just a matter of whether Jia She will heed my advice, cultivate Jia Cong, and rectify the long-standing problems in the household. If he can do so, the Jia family might still have a chance to survive; if he remains obstinate, then even a god couldn't save them.

"Zhao Zhong,"

He lifted a corner of the carriage curtain and instructed the attendant beside him, "Go back to that residence in the west of the city and pick out some suitable items to send to the Jia family."

"I would say that although I am powerless to change the situation, I still cherish our past friendship. This little thing is offered as a token of my condolences to the old lady and everyone in the household, so that they may spend the New Year in peace."

Zhao Zhong bowed and replied, "This servant obeys the order and will make the arrangements immediately."

The carriage moved slowly, bumping along the way back to the Prince of Beijing's residence.

As soon as Shui Rong alighted from the carriage, he dismissed his attendants, leaving only his personal guards by his side, and muttered to himself, "Did Qin Zhongxun go to Cixi Temple after court?"

As soon as the words were spoken, a dark figure silently emerged from behind a pillar, knelt on one knee, his posture upright as a pine tree, and spoke in an extremely low voice, almost inaudible:

"Your Highness, after the court session, Minister Qin did not go to Cixi Temple in person. He returned to his residence first, and then sent a trusted servant with a food box and several bolts of silk to Miss Qin's residence. He stayed there for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn before returning to the Minister's residence."

Shui Rong nodded slightly, a deep light flashing in his eyes, his tone calm yet carrying an undeniable authority:

"Keep a close watch on him, day and night. Report any unusual activity he makes, especially when he goes to Ci'an Temple in person, immediately, without delay."

"Yes, sir!" the guard replied in a deep voice. With a flicker, he disappeared into the shadows of the mansion like a ghost, leaving no trace.

Shui Rong entered the study, waved away the servants, and sat down alone at the desk.

He picked up the teapot and poured himself a cup of hot tea. Holding the warm teacup between his fingertips, he suddenly remembered the scene in the Imperial Study earlier that day—when his elder brother stuffed the tiger tally into his hand, he didn't call him "brother" as usual, but rather "younger brother."