At Jiang Yanchuan's signal, Eunuch Changshun handed the stack of Xuan paper bearing the evidence to Yu Anlan.
It was a stack of letters, and the handwriting was terribly familiar. Yu Anlan took one look, and his hands gave a violent tremble.
Memories of the past came flooding back in an instant.
That year, he had just entered officialdom. His rank was low, his words carried little weight, and the court paid him no mind.
Only after Chancellor Qiao gradually recognized his talents and spared no effort in supporting him did his circumstances begin to improve.
When he said Chancellor Qiao had shown him the kindness of recognizing his worth, it was no mere excuse.
But however precious that kindness might be, how could it outweigh his own future?!
There were only so many positions at court. If Qiao Qinian refused to step down from his, how were those beneath him supposed to climb?!
Thus, when that person approached him with a letter and proposed working together, he hesitated for only one night before agreeing.
Yet he had still been far too green back then. The massacre of the Qiao family had left an indelible mark on him, and every detail of the past remained vividly clear.
What he now held in his hands were none other than the letters he had written twenty years ago to his accomplice inside the Qiao Residence!
"Your Majesty," Yu Anlan raised his head, forcibly suppressing the tremors in his heart, "these are merely a few letters. There are many people in this world capable of imitating another's handwriting. To conclude from these alone that I framed Chancellor Qiao and his family would hardly be fair!"
His words rang out with self-righteous conviction, but the officials were not paying him any attention at all.