A moment later, Xilin Chuan returned to the main hall with several officials, only to stop in their tracks at the sight of Hongyi. They exchanged glances, puzzled. Xilin Chuan studied her tear-streaked face, trying to guess the cause of her crying, then straightened and bowed slightly to the official beside him. “I must trouble you with this matter, my lord.”

“Not at all, not at all,” the official replied with repeated bows, sensing that Xilin Chuan intended to leave. With a gracious gesture and a beaming smile, he added, “Farewell, my lord.”

Xilin Chuan strolled out of the hall. As he passed by Hongyi without stopping, her weeping grew clearer behind him—filled with helplessness and regret, her sobs choking and broken.

Once he boarded the carriage, he gave a brief order, “Back to the residence.” The wheels began to turn, and soon the carriage rolled away from the government office in a cloud of dust.

Hongyi was left with only one thought in her heart:

She was doomed.

She had no idea what the legal process in Daxia was like. She had asked Lüslee to use her savings to find a defense pleader—would that be in time? By logic, with the current price levels, a hundred taels of silver should be enough to hire a decent advocate. But no one had shown up yet…

Her anxiety intensified.

“Here, make your mark,” said an official, stepping in front of her with a stack of papers. Sitting on the floor, Hongyi peeked at them from the back. Every sheet was densely written.

But… aren’t statements supposed to be given voluntarily? What was this? A pre-written confession based on what Xilin Chuan claimed, and now they wanted her to sign it?

Hongyi gritted her teeth. “No.”

The official froze, then tried to reason with her. “Come on, just sign it. If you’ve had some disagreement with the Lord Marquis, take it up with him back home. Don’t hold us up—we’ve got other cases to handle.”

…What?

…Wait a second. So there really wasn’t going to be a flogging or three years of prison?

Once she signed, she could leave?

Hongyi blinked back her tears and cautiously asked, “Can I… can I read it first?”

“Sure.” The official handed her the papers. As she accepted them, he added, “Look carefully. If there’s anything wrong or unclear, make sure to speak up.”

The more she heard, the more confused she became. She glanced at the top sheet. It contained a child’s personal information—name, gender, age, birthplace—everything clearly noted. Even the approximate time when the child’s family had been slaughtered was recorded. It went on to state that the child had been kidnapped and sold to Changyang by traffickers. Nowhere did it mention her name.

She flipped through the rest—twenty-three pages, each documenting a different child’s situation. Some entries had blanks for details that couldn’t be confirmed, but the rest were meticulous.

“What… is this?” she asked, bewildered. Looking up at the official, she saw equal confusion on his face. “Weren’t these twenty-three children saved by you?”

“…Yes,” Hongyi admitted, hesitantly, fearing she was being tricked into self-incrimination.

“That’s quite something,” the official said, glancing sideways at her. “Lord Marquis had this investigated himself. He instructed us to document everything clearly and submit it to the Ministry of Household so their registrations can be processed properly.”

Hongyi was stunned.

“Are they… being registered as of lowly status?” she asked cautiously.

“How could they be?!” The official looked aghast. “They’re war orphans, not the children of criminals. Just because they’re in a new place doesn’t mean their status should be demoted. Don’t worry about that. Just review the documents. If everything’s correct, sign and stamp it. We’ll submit it. If there’s any issue, the Ministry will follow up with you or Lord Marquis.”

So… this had nothing to do with a confession of guilt. No intention to prosecute her. What she was experiencing was essentially a “statement of record,” like giving a police report in the modern world…

Hongyi reviewed the papers again carefully. Once certain there were no errors, she signed her name, stamped her fingerprint, and looked at the official. “So… I’m done?”

“You’re done.” He nodded, tapped the papers to straighten them, and handed them to a subordinate. “Submit these to the Ministry.”