Every torture device had been inflicted upon him, leaving only the ache in his body.
None of that mattered, but what he couldn't bear was the potential betrayal by others; if that happened, everything he had endured would be in vain.
Lost in thought, his consciousness wavered between speaking and remaining silent. When a subordinate, escorted by guards, appeared outside his cell, his vision darkened, and he immediately opened his parched lips and said, "I'll confess. I'll confess everything."
Seeing this, Zhao Jiaqi's lips curved into a wide smile, her mood exceptionally good. She turned to Yu Meng and said, "Mother is tired. You handle the rest."
As she spoke, the seven assassins who had been dragged in were also hauled into the dungeon. They were laid out in a line, their hand and leg tendons severed. Some had even lost a row of teeth, their words whistling out, yet they still wailed and cried.
Their coarse, muffled cries were unpleasant to the ears. Zhao Jiaqi, her face gaunt, ordered, "This person is too annoying. Get a needle and sew his mouth shut. We can take it out later when he needs to speak."
Yu Meng's hand, holding the whip, trembled. Her body shook. Although she often threatened to sew people's mouths shut, she only ever said it. But her mother, however, directly ordered it done. She was even more ruthless than Yu Meng.
Looking at her mother's usual imposing demeanor, they, the younger ones, weren't really afraid; at most, they'd get a beating. But today, she had truly witnessed her mother's ferocity and decisiveness firsthand.
The guards moved quickly and returned even faster. Just as Yu Meng's heart trembled, the wailing person's mouth was sewn shut by a guard, as if it were a piece of cloth. As they were sewing, Yu Meng saw the guard biting his lip, the flesh on his cheeks bunched up.
She could clearly feel the guard using all his might. But then again, everyone has their specialties. A guard skilled with a sword might not be as adept as a seamstress with an embroidery needle.
After a considerable effort, the mouth was finally sewn shut, fulfilling the Consort's wish. The guard stood up, cupped his hands, and reported, "Consort, your subordinate has sewn it securely. I guarantee he cannot open his mouth now."
While drinking tea and eating pastries, Zhao Jiaqi nodded and even praised him, "Your mending skills are excellent. I shall reward you with a fine sword from Xueguo's tribute. Go to the storeroom to collect it later."
Guard: ".....Thank you, Consort."
Assassin: "......"
Yu Meng: "......" Actually, she could also do mending work.
Zhao Jiaqi had completed the preceding tasks. All that remained was the interrogation. To her surprise, the assassin who confessed turned out to be the leader of this group, knowing more than the others.
Yu Meng interrogated him for a long time. This assassin truly revealed everything, answering all questions thoroughly, including the fact that their movements and those of Fan Zehao were all within his knowledge.
The sun began to set. After interrogating for most of the day, the truth finally emerged. Yu Meng, after reading the confession she had written, almost had her lungs burst with anger.
Her unadorned red lips let loose a string of curses: "Her grandmother's! You bunch of traitors! Once I catch that spy, I'll tear her mouth to shreds, skin her alive, and make her a human statue to display in the prince's manor. Let's see who dares betray the manor again."
"Damn it, idiots."
She was so angry she almost crumpled the confession, but thankfully, Zhao Jiaqi quickly snatched it away.
"You're a grown young lady; swearing is not good. However, I do admire the punishment you just described."
Yu Meng: ......
Her mother must have been pushed to her breaking point these past few days. She was usually so gentle, but today she seemed like a completely different person. Yu Meng had only spoken those words casually; if she were to actually carry them out, Yu Meng wouldn't dare.
She then carefully folded the confession, placed it in her wide sleeves, adjusted herself into a more comfortable sitting position, and looked back at the deflated assassin.
She asked, "You've said so much, but you've only mentioned your master in passing. Do you think I'm a woman and therefore easy to deceive?"
Hearing her words, the assassin's pupils contracted. He said stubbornly, "I've already made it clear. Our master is Prince A'Le."
Zhao Jiaqi raised an eyebrow subtly, a half-smile on her face. "Do you think that with Prince A'Le dead, I have no one to confront?"
Her gaze shifted from him to the others below. She said lightly, "It's fine if you don't tell the truth. As for them, I have plenty of ways to make them speak."
As her voice fell, a silence descended upon the dungeon. After a long period of contemplation, he spoke again, "I don't know who the master is. The master's personal guard always contacts me."
Zhao Jiaqi believed this.
Why would the mastermind be foolish enough to personally instruct assassins on a mission?
If this person weren't clever, the spy in the manor would have been exposed long ago.
She took a sip of tea, moistening her dry throat, and continued, "Tell me about the characteristics and preferences of the person who gave you the orders."
Characteristics? Preferences?
The assassin fell into thought, recalling past events. "He's about seven feet five inches tall, lean build, likes to wear white brocade robes. The collar lining is embroidered with a white plum blossom. He's left-handed and skilled with a soft sword."
Zhao Jiaqi, who had been listening intently, suddenly heard him trail off. She looked at him curiously and asked, "And that's it?"
"What about his appearance? Accent, and so on?"
To her surprise, the assassin shook his head at her. "He always wears a mask, so his face cannot be seen clearly. His accent is from Yun Country, but he stutters when he speaks, so he's likely a stammerer."
"We assassins are provided with all our expenses by the master. But the master must be very wealthy; they would give us half a year's or even a year's payment at once. The missions are usually quite ordinary, only this time it was rather..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but Zhao Jiaqi understood his meaning.
"Oh, right. The person who delivers our missions has a peculiar habit. When outside, whether squatting to drink water or wash his hands, he would lift his brocade robe. I asked why, and he said it was a habit."
After speaking, he nodded quite seriously.
Yu Meng wrote down what he said. After reading it, she felt something was amiss, though she couldn't quite pinpoint what.
Zhao Jiaqi had obtained the information she needed and no longer troubled these people, especially the one whose mouth was sewn shut.
As she was leaving, she specifically instructed, "Shi He, have someone remove the stitches from his mouth."
Shi He cupped his hands and replied affirmatively. He watched the Consort and the County Princess leave before arranging for someone to carry out the seamstress's task.
Outside the dungeon, Zhao Jiaqi and Yu Meng exchanged glances. Mother and daughter began to act, performing for the household. After a brief charade, they returned to their courtyard.
As night fell, Yu Meng tugged at her mother, who was dressed as a maid, and asked with uncertainty, "Do you think that spy will go to the dungeon?"
Zhao Jiaqi, having changed into a maid's outfit, replied with a determined gaze, "Definitely."
"The spy lurking in the shadows hears that we are close to getting a confession from the assassins. That spy will fear implicating their master and will surely try to silence them."
Yu Meng understood this. But what she didn't understand was how her mother was so certain the spy was sent by the mastermind?
What if, like these assassins, they were hired mid-way?
However, she didn't voice this question, waiting until the spy was caught tonight to ask her mother.
Seeing her mother about to leave, she was slightly surprised. On such an important night, her mother was going to leave the manor?
"Where are you going, Mother? Aren't you participating in tonight's operation?" Yu Meng asked, full of curiosity.
At this moment, Zhao Jiaqi didn't hide it from her. "I'm going to the graveyard to visit your grandmother. And I'll bring her some ginseng soup."
Graveyard.
Grandmother.
Hadn't Grandmother already passed away?
Can the dead drink ginseng soup?
Bang! The closing door startled her awake.
Suddenly, she felt an extreme chill in the room, a bone-deep coldness. She kept sensing her grandmother's spirit floating in the air. Otherwise, how would her mother know grandmother wanted soup?