By nightfall, the northern square was packed. No one owned up to being there to watch. Some mumbled they were on their way home, others that they'd stopped for tea. A few leaned against street stalls they had zero interest in buying from, arms crossed. Mingzu City had always been good at faking coincidence when curiosity was the real reason.
Right in the middle of the square, three men were on their knees. No chains, no blood, no big show of power. Just three grown guys on cold stone, faces flushed crimson under the fading sky, with two Bia Family guards standing behind them, hands clasped behind their backs. That somehow felt worse.
"You heard wrong, we were just repeating what others—"
The guard on the left kicked the back of his knee. Not a hard kick, but enough. "Speak up," he said. "You sounded pretty sure of yourself in the market."
A ripple went through the crowd, then vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Up by the square steps, Bia Zhenyuan stood with one hand behind his back. He hadn't brought many people; he didn't need to. Beside him were two elders, both silent, both expressionless. Next to them, several younger Bia Family members watched, saying nothing. The old patriarch looked down at the kneeling men like he was sizing up livestock.
"You said my grandson bowed to the Chen Family," he said.
The man in the middle swallowed so hard it was noticeable from where everyone stood. "Family Head Bia, I— I misspoke."
"You did more than misspeak." His voice wasn't loud, which only made the square quieter. "You opened your mouth in public and fed lies to a city already sniffing out weakness. If my Bia Family says nothing, you'll think we've accepted it. If we accept it, tomorrow someone else will add a little more. By next week, maybe my grandson will have crawled to the Chen Family gates and begged on his knees before the whole city."
Not a soul in the crowd dared to laugh. The kneeling man tried anyway. "Family Head Bia, we truly didn't mean—"
"Of course you did." The words hit him like a slap.
At the edge of the square, someone dropped their head. Another took a half-step back, as if putting distance between himself and the scene might save him from being remembered. Bia Zhenyuan raised a hand. A guard stepped forward with a tray. On it lay three strips of cloth and an inkstone. The men on the ground turned pale.
"Since you enjoy spreading words," Bia Zhenyuan said, "you can repeat the truth instead. Write what happened in my hall this afternoon. Write it clearly. Then read it aloud."
The one on the far right blurted out, "We can't write well—"
"Then today is a good day to learn."
The tray was placed in front of them. For several heartbeats, no one moved. Then, one man reached for the brush with trembling fingers. The crowd shifted, not much, just enough for whispering to start in the back, where people thought they couldn't be heard.
"Too harsh…"
"Harsh? They slandered the Bia Family young master."
"It was just talk."
"Just talk until it reaches the wrong ears."
"Shh. Look who's there."
Heads turned. Bia Yuzhen had arrived without anyone noticing. He stood halfway up the east steps, not next to his grandfather, not hidden behind servants, just there in pale robes that caught the last of the evening light. He hadn't dressed to impress, but people looked anyway. That habit hadn't faded with his foundation. For a moment, no one knew where to look. His face? His empty waist? The family head who had just punished half the square for speaking lightly of him?
Yuzhen said nothing. He just looked at the three men on their knees. The one holding the brush nearly dropped it. Bia Zhenyuan didn't turn. "Why did you come?"
Yuzhen descended the last few steps at an unhurried pace. "I heard Grandfather was teaching in the square. I came to listen."
Several people in the crowd stiffened. A Bia Family elder coughed, very quietly, into his fist. Even one of the guards seemed to fight the urge to smile. Only then did Bia Zhenyuan glance back. The old man's expression didn't soften much, but the coldness in it shifted. "Then listen properly."
"Yes, Grandfather."
The kneeling men wrote. Badly. The first one smeared half a sentence. The second had to stop twice because his hand shook too much. The third tried to be clever and shorten the account until the guard behind him put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Write all of it." So he did.
By the time they finished, the square was completely dark except for the lanterns. More people had gathered, not fewer. No one was leaving now. Not after staying this long.
The man in the middle was made to read first. His voice cracked on the opening line. "This afternoon," he read, staring at the cloth in his hands, "the Chen Family came to the Bia estate to break the engagement between Young Master Chen Xianyi and Young Master Bia Yuzhen. Young Master Bia did not kneel, did not plead, and did not lose his dignity. It was Young Master Bia who agreed to end the engagement and ordered that there be no misunderstanding between the families going forward." His ears had turned red by the end of it.
The second man read next, even louder from nerves. The third stumbled through the same lines with sweat on his upper lip despite the cold. When they were done, the square remained silent. Bia Zhenyuan let the silence stretch. Then he said, "Now you know the difference between truth and the filth you trade for amusement."
No one answered. The old patriarch's gaze swept once over the crowd. "If anyone else has trouble remembering, come to my gate tomorrow. I'll have a scribe prepared."
That was enough. People started lowering their eyes. A few slipped away at once, suddenly remembering homes, errands, children, shops. Others followed after them, slower, more careful, carrying the story with them now in a different shape than before. By tomorrow morning, all of Mingzu would know what had happened in the square. More importantly, they would know the Bia Family had chosen to make it public.
The three men were hauled to their feet and dismissed so quickly they nearly tripped over themselves getting away. Only after most of the crowd had thinned did Bia Zhenyuan turn fully toward Yuzhen. "You shouldn't have come."
Yuzhen looked at the empty patch of stone where the kneeling men had been. "I know."
"Then why?"
Because if he hid, the city would remember that too. Because hearing about this from a servant later would have been worse. Because some part of him had needed to see, with his own eyes, that not everything around him had broken. He said only, "I was curious."
Bia Zhenyuan studied him for a long breath. Then he snorted. "Liar." It was such a familiar answer that Yuzhen almost smiled.
The elders began moving off. The guards followed. One by one, the lanterns around the center of the square were lowered or carried away, leaving only the ones fixed high along the street walls. Lin Suyue hadn't come, but one of her attendants waited near the carriage with a cloak folded over both arms. Yuzhen recognized it immediately. His grandmother disliked wind after sunset and disliked grandchildren standing in it even more.
He had just reached for the cloak when a voice sounded from across the street. "Family Head Bia." The square, which had only just begun to loosen, drew tight again. Chen Rulong stood at the far end of the road beneath a hanging lantern, with two attendants behind him and Chen Xianyi at his side. No one had seen them arrive. Or maybe they had, and no one had dared say it.
For one strange second, no one moved at all. The Chen Family had picked the worst possible moment to appear, which meant the timing was probably deliberate. Bia Zhenyuan's face gave away nothing. "Family Head Chen."
Chen Rulong's gaze passed over the nearly empty square, the lingering cloth strips, the last traces of spectacle. "It seems I arrived after your lesson ended."
"Then you were fortunate. I charge tuition." A few people still lingering at the edges lowered their heads very quickly.
Chen Rulong didn't bother pretending he had missed the insult. "I came because something belonging to Young Master Bia was left behind."
Only then did one of the attendants step forward, carrying a long narrow box with both hands. Betrothal jade. Yuzhen knew the shape before it was opened. He had chosen the piece himself three years ago from among four others. White jade veined faintly with green, not the rarest in the Bia treasury, but the cleanest. Chen Xianyi had said at the time that plain things suited him better. How thoughtful.
The box was brought forward and opened beneath the lantern light. The jade had cracked cleanly down the center. No one spoke. Yuzhen looked at it once, then lifted his eyes to Chen Xianyi. The other boy's face had gone rigid. Not guilt, then. Embarrassment. That was almost insulting enough to be funny.
Bia Zhenyuan's voice was very mild. "Did the road here break it?"
Chen Rulong's expression cooled. "Young people are emotional."
"That is one explanation." Yuzhen stepped forward before his grandfather could say more. The attendant holding the box seemed unsure whether to offer it to him. He took it anyway. The broken jade felt colder than it should have. He ran his thumb once over the split edge, then closed the lid. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "Please thank Young Master Chen for returning it."
Chen Xianyi's fingers tightened at his sides. Yuzhen continued, "Tell him he need not worry. Since it is already broken, I won't send it back." Chen Rulong's eyes narrowed just slightly. But Yuzhen had already turned. "Grandfather," he said, still holding the box, "I'm tired."
This time, Bia Zhenyuan's answer came at once. "Then go back." Yuzhen inclined his head and walked past them all. No one stopped him. Only when he had nearly reached the carriage did he hear quick footsteps behind him. Chen Xianyi. Of course.
"Yuzhen," he called, low enough not to carry far, urgent enough to make his own shame obvious. "Wait." Yuzhen did not. He opened the carriage door with one hand. "Yuzhen." That made him pause. Not because of the voice. Because of the hand that caught the edge of the door before it could close. He looked down at it first. Then up. Chen Xianyi stood too close, breathing unevenly, eyes fixed on his face as if he wanted something from him and had no idea what name to give it.
"The jade wasn't my doing," he said. Yuzhen looked at him for a beat. Then another. When he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that only the two of them could hear. "That's worse."