Keqing couldn't hide her disappointment.
"Right now, Huachu insists that during her elopement she saw Zhang Xiaoli suffering and took pity on her, so she gave her clothes."
"She says Zhang Xiaoli's death has nothing to do with her."
"And Duke De'an hired Yanfei—the best legal adviser in Liyue—to defend her. There's no way to break through from Huachu's side."
Song Yinjian smiled faintly.
"So that's why you came to me."
"But don't worry. Huachu probably has little to do with Zhang Xiaoli's death. At most, she damaged a corpse."
Keqing's eyes sharpened with confusion. "How can you tell? What's your basis?"
Song Yinjian raised a finger, calm and confident. "Simple."
"Huachu just wanted Duke De'an to stop sending people to interfere with her 'love.' There was no need for her to commit a crime that serious."
"And she's a pampered rich girl. Jianqiu's just a scholar." "They wouldn't have the nerve to murder."
Keqing thought for a moment, then guessed,
"Then could it have been Pan Huilian and her lover, Zhang Feng?" "If Zhang Xiaoli lived, she might claim inheritance. If she died…" Song Yinjian nodded.
"It's possible. Let's speak with Pan Huilian first."
Under Keqing's guidance, the two headed to Liyue's prison.
Song Yinjian had imagined a prison like in old dramas—dark, damp, oppressive. But when he arrived, he found Liyue's prison was nothing like that.
It felt almost modern—clean and orderly, more structure than gloom.
Using her special status as one of the Qixing, Keqing instructed the guards to bring Pan Huilian—who was currently working at a sewing machine—into an interrogation room.
It had been a while.
Pan Huilian looked noticeably thinner. The seductive charm that once lingered in her brows and eyes had vanished completely.
And yet, in a strange way, she seemed more pitiable now.
When she lifted her gaze and saw Song Yinjian—the man who had sent her to prison—there was no hatred in her eyes.
Instead, there was sincere gratitude.
"Boss Song," she said earnestly, "if you hadn't sent me here, I would've spent the rest of my life trapped in fear and anxiety."
Song Yinjian waved it off lightly.
"No need. I'm here today to tell you something." "Zhang Xiaoli is dead."
Pan Huilian's eyes widened in shock. "Dead? How… how did she die?" Song Yinjian watched her closely.
There was no panic at all on her face.
In that moment, he already had his answer—Zhang Xiaoli's death likely had nothing to do with Pan Huilian.
So he spoke evenly.
"A few days before Mister Zhang died, she was murdered."
"Afterward, she was thrown into a well. The body wasn't found until it rotted and stank." Pan Huilian hurriedly shook her head.
"Her death has nothing to do with me! She was an illegitimate daughter—she couldn't inherit anything properly. I had no reason to kill her!"
Song Yinjian paused, then asked the question that had always bothered him. "Mister Zhang was already gravely ill. He was going to die soon."
"Why did you poison him?"
Bitterness surfaced on Pan Huilian's face. She spoke slowly, voice hollow.
"The world thinks I married Zhang Rong and lived in wealth and comfort… but who knew he was twisted?"
"Because I never bore him a son, he used every method to torment me." "That day, lying sick in bed, he even… with a candle…"
Song Yinjian cut in at once.
"Madam Pan. Thank you for telling me."
Pan Huilian nodded faintly and was escorted out of the interrogation room.
Next, Song Yinjian and Keqing had the guards bring in Zhang Feng as well—the one who'd "dropped the soap" more times than he could count.
Zhang Feng insisted stubbornly that Zhang Xiaoli's death had nothing to do with him. But from his mouth, Song Yinjian and Keqing did gain something useful.
Zhang Rong disliked his illegitimate daughter. They hardly interacted, and Zhang Xiaoli lived in poverty.
Yet during Zhang Rong's illness, she had brought him an extremely expensive ginseng. After leaving the prison, Song Yinjian led Keqing straight toward Zhang Rong's estate. He nodded.
"Yes. If nothing unexpected happened, Zhang Xiaoli's death is likely connected to that expensive ginseng."
Keqing didn't understand.
"Zhang Xiaoli lived so poorly, and Zhang Rong treated her badly. Why would she go out of her way to buy something that expensive for him?"
Song Yinjian sighed softly.
"Master Keqing… you're a noble young lady who's been well cared for." "You don't understand how people at the bottom think."
"She gave him expensive ginseng because she hoped he'd give her a bigger share of the inheritance."
"It's shallow. It's even laughable."
"But it was the only chance she had to change her miserable fate." Keqing fell silent.
She walked forward, the mood in her chest growing heavier—like a breath she couldn't let out. Just before reaching Zhang Rong's estate, she suddenly stopped.
Her expression turned serious, her voice firm.
"From today onward, I will experience the lives of the common people. I will understand them, help them, and I will never let Zhang Xiaoli's tragedy happen again."
Song Yinjian looked at her determined face and felt genuine respect rise in him. "Master Keqing… I believe you."