Category: Summoning the Soul

Chapter 59: Water Dragon Song (Part 4)

Ni Su’s heart stirred as she met his gaze.

She was about to speak when the rumbling of a carriage approached. She and Xu He Xue turned their heads simultaneously. It was Jiang Xian Ming’s carriage, returning unexpectedly.

Jiang Xian Ming lifted the curtain and looked at the young man and woman. “Qian Wei Yin has escaped!”

“What?”

Ni Su was stunned. She stepped closer and saw through her veil that Jiang Xian Ming was indeed alone in the carriage.

“What happened?”

Xu He Xue stared at him.

“He knew you were skilled in martial arts, so he pretended to agree to come with me. In reality, he was waiting for me to separate from you so he could escape!” Jiang Xian Ming’s expression was grave. “Young Master, he told me that after he abandoned his post and fled, he returned to Daizhou and hid under their noses. He originally wanted to persuade his former colleague, Ren Jun, to go to the capital with him, but he discovered that someone was already investigating Ren Jun.”

Someone else was investigating this matter?

Xu He Xue was taken aback, then asked, “Who?”

“He said it was a young man surnamed Dong, a student at the Imperial Academy. He didn’t know much more. Ren Jun suddenly died in office a few months ago. That young man surnamed Dong likely has Ren Jun’s confession and evidence.”

Jiang Xian Ming recalled what Qian Wei Yin had said to him in the carriage: “A mere student dares to wade into the murky waters of Daizhou. Jing Nian, can you guess who instructed him? I’m not afraid to tell you, I followed him on the way here. But I trust you more than the person above him, so when we were near Yun Jing, I found an opportunity to get away from him and came to you first. However, Jing Nian, I see that you don’t dare.”

“I suspect he might go back to find that student surnamed Dong,” Jiang Xian Ming added, addressing Xu He Xue.

“Do you have the Imperial Academy roster?” Xu He Xue asked.

“I know Judge Tian. Come on board, let’s go to his place!” Jiang Xian Ming beckoned them.

There were hundreds of students at the Imperial Academy. Twenty-one of them were surnamed Dong. Jiang Xian Ming took Xu He Xue and Ni Su to Judge Tian’s residence to look through the roster, but they couldn’t identify the specific individual.

The clue Qian Wei Yin had given was too vague.

Judge Tian, yawning and bewildered, stayed up with Jiang Xian Ming and the young couple. Seeing Jiang Xian Ming grinding ink at the desk, he asked, “Jing Nian, what are you writing now?”

“A memorial.”

Jiang Xian Ming held the brush and looked at him. “Old Tian, I’ve borrowed your ink, paper, and space. I’ll repay you later.”

“Forget it, there’s no need to repay me. Everyone knows you live frugally but are willing to spend on expensive paper, brushes, ink, and inkstones. Mine can’t compare to yours.” Judge Tian waved his hand. “But what memorial are you writing, Censor Jiang?”

Jiang Xian Ming dipped his brush in ink, looked at the blank page, and after a while, said, “I’m going to reopen an old case.”

They couldn’t identify the student surnamed Dong, and it was unclear whether Qian Wei Yin had gone looking for him. Jiang Xian Ming wasn’t sure whether the student had brought the alleged evidence back to Yun Jing. If he had safely returned, and the person above him knew the truth about the Daizhou grain supply case, would they still dare to bring it up?

Du Cong’s crimes were yet to be determined due to his disappearance. The officials implicated in the grain supply case had either been promoted or died over the past decade.

Their promotions were earned with the blood and sweat of the people. Jiang Xian Ming pondered, his mind filled with Qian Wei Yin’s parting words: “You don’t dare.”

If the student surnamed Dong didn’t dare, if the person above him didn’t dare, if he, Jiang Xian Ming, didn’t dare either, should they allow those corrupt officials to continue gnawing at the pillars of the Great Qi?

Hearing Jiang Xian Ming’s words, Ni Su turned and saw him lift his hand to write.

The person beside her hadn’t turned the page for a long time. She couldn’t see his expression under the veiled hat, but her gaze fell on the ink marks by his fingertips.

Dong Yao.

Ni Su glanced at it. His father, Dong Cheng Da, was a county official.

“Judge Tian, do you have any impression of this Dong Yao?” Xu He Xue suddenly asked.

Hearing the voice, Judge Tian turned around. There were hundreds of students at the Imperial Academy, how could he remember each one clearly? But he thought carefully about this Dong Yao. “Ah, he’s a good student, especially skilled in mathematics. He should have received an official post two years ago, but it was discovered that his biological father was a military official who had committed a crime. Dong Cheng Da is actually his maternal uncle. Before he changed his surname to Dong, his original surname was Lu. Because of this, his entry into officialdom was delayed until this year, when Minister Zhang allowed him to become a registrar in the Department of State Affairs.”

Dong Yao, originally surnamed Lu.

Even without Judge Tian explaining further, Xu He Xue remembered his father’s name—Lu Heng.

Captain of the Princess Wenduan’s residence guard.

Xu He Xue had met Lu Heng several times and knew he had a brother-in-law obsessed with mathematics. If he hadn’t seen “Dong Cheng Da” following Dong Yao’s name, Xu He Xue wouldn’t have remembered Lu Heng’s brother-in-law.

Judge Tian’s following words, “Minister Zhang,” made Xu He Xue abruptly stand up, gripping the edge of the table. “Censor Jiang, both Qian Wei Yin and Dong Yao are scholars with no martial arts skills. How is it that their journey here was so uneventful, without any assassination attempts?”

Jiang Xian Ming was stunned, then carefully considered every word Qian Wei Yin had said. He immediately understood. “Young Master, could there be something more to Ren Jun’s death?”

Ren Jun had suddenly died in office, while Dong Yao remained unharmed. Even if they were both cautious and knew how to hide, their journey couldn’t have been so peaceful.

Unless… someone deliberately let Dong Yao go.

But what was their purpose in letting Dong Yao go? Was it to draw out the person behind Dong Yao and then catch them all in one swoop?

Jiang Xian Ming felt a chill down his spine.

Ni Su saw Xu Zi Ling’s hand on the table tremble. He then grabbed a lamp and stumbled out. She quickly followed. Dawn was breaking, and a cold wind blew against her face.

The bronze bells on the eaves chimed softly.

The person who had just rushed out ahead of her was nowhere to be seen.

Ni Su looked down and discovered that there was no mist clinging to the edges of her sleeves. Panic seized her. Ignoring Jiang Xian Ming’s calls from behind, she lifted her skirt and ran towards the gate.

As dawn broke, He Tong, a Hanlin scholar, came to escort his teacher to the palace as usual. He was greeted by the old steward in the courtyard and saw Zhang Jing dressed in neat purple official robes. He immediately stepped forward to help his teacher put on his hat.

“What’s wrong with the old steward?”

He Tong turned and noticed the reddened eyes of Liu Jia Rong, Zhang Jing’s longtime steward, and was puzzled.

“He stayed up with me all night. Look at him, his eyes are red from exhaustion.”

Zhang Jing glanced at the old steward, his tone indifferent.

The old steward’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he lowered his head. “Yes, I’m old and useless now.”

He Tong didn’t think much of it and was about to invite his teacher to leave when he noticed a figure kneeling in the shadows at the end of the covered porch. He was startled. “Teacher, he…”

“Don’t kneel, get up,” Zhang Jing said to the figure without hesitation.

He Tong saw the man rise and step out of the shadows. He was a middle-aged man, but He Tong didn’t recognize him.

“This is Qian Wei Yin. I need to take him to the palace today,” Zhang Jing said, smoothing his sleeves.

“But, Minister Zhang, we still don’t know where Dong Yao is…”

Qian Wei Yin’s face was filled with worry.

Hearing this, Zhang Jing looked at him. “Whether he comes or not isn’t important. Your arrival is a pleasant surprise.”

“Teacher, why are you taking him to the palace?”

He Tong couldn’t understand what they were talking about.

Zhang Jing didn’t answer. He simply looked his student over, at his vermillion official robes and properly worn hat. “I have some poetry drafts. Come tomorrow and help me organize them.”

“I understand,” He Tong nodded.

On the road from Zhang’s residence to the imperial palace, He Tong was accustomed to his teacher’s silence, but he couldn’t help but glance at Qian Wei Yin sitting opposite him.

He recognized the clothes Qian Wei Yin was wearing. They were clearly his teacher’s.

He couldn’t fathom why his teacher was taking this man to the palace. He felt a sense of unease, especially when the carriage stopped at the palace gate. He saw Qian Wei Yin get out, kneel down, and shout, “Your guilty subject, Qian Wei Yin, presents his confession! I request an audience with the Emperor!”

He had probably never shouted so desperately before, the veins in his neck bulging.

“Teacher, what is he…”

He Tong turned around and saw Zhang Jing’s calm expression. “Don’t mind him, let’s enter the palace.”

He Tong never disobeyed his teacher. He helped Zhang Jing out of the carriage, bypassing Qian Wei Yin. As they were about to enter the imperial city, he heard a commotion behind him. He turned to see Qian Wei Yin being restrained by several imperial guards, who were escorting him towards the palace gate.

“Teacher, aren’t you going to the Department of State Affairs?”

There was no court meeting today. Zhang Jing should be going to the Department of State Affairs, but He Tong saw that he wasn’t headed in that direction.

Zhang Jing shook his head. “I need to see Prince Jia first. You don’t need to come. Go to the Department of State Affairs first. I’ll be back shortly.”

He Tong stopped, the unease in his heart intensifying, yet he was also confused, unsure why he felt so anxious. Seeing Zhang Jing limping forward with his cane, he couldn’t help but call out, “Teacher…”

Zhang Jing stopped and looked back at him.

Within the imperial city, the sky seemed to brighten, the morning mist thin, lingering amidst the green tiles and red walls. Zhang Jing leaned on his cane with both hands. “He Tong, you must do a good job organizing those poetry drafts, understand?”

“I understand.”

He Tong replied, “I’ve waited fifteen years to do these things for you again, Teacher.”

These words brought tears to Zhang Jing’s eyes. He nodded, a smile appearing on his usually stern face. “You’ve always been my best student. But I want to ask you, do you hate someone in your heart?”

He Tong was startled, then lowered his head. “Teacher, if he hadn’t implicated you with his treason, you wouldn’t have suffered exile, and my mother and brother wouldn’t have…”

He choked back a sob.

“I knew you hated him. I read the article you wrote denouncing him. It was the only thing about him that the Emperor allowed to circulate.”

Zhang Jing walked back to him. The faint sunlight reflecting off the green tiles made him squint slightly.

“Teacher… why are you mentioning him?”

The unease in He Tong’s heart grew stronger.

“Alright, you can go.”

Zhang Jing’s voice was calm. The morning wind billowed his sleeves. He didn’t look at He Tong again, turning and walking away, step by step, with his cane.

Inside Zhong Ming Palace, Prince Jia and his wife were packing. Emperor Zheng Yuan was still furious. Yesterday, when he heard Prince Jia request to leave the palace and return to Tongzhou, he didn’t even grant him an audience, only sending the Chief Eunuch, Liang Shen Fu, to convey his approval.

“Xi Zhen, there’s nothing much to pack. Let’s just go back.” Prince Jia was eager to leave, pacing back and forth in the hall.

“Your Highness doesn’t, but I do.”

Princess Jia, Li Xi Zhen, was personally packing her clothes and jewelry, her movements unhurried.

“Since spring has arrived, it’s time for you to get new clothes.” Prince Jia’s spirits were higher than they had been since his return to the capital. He walked over to Li Xi Zhen’s side, chattering. “When we get back, I’ll…”

Li Xi Zhen paused in her packing, looked up at him, and was about to speak when a eunuch announced outside, “Your Highness, Minister Zhang requests an audience.”

At the mention of “Minister Zhang,” Prince Jia’s eyes widened in surprise. Without a second thought, he rushed to the door and opened it himself.

Morning light streamed in, illuminating the elderly man outside, his face lined with age, his hair white. Though he leaned on a cane, his purple official robes were neatly worn, as stern and proud as Prince Jia remembered.

Yet, he was much older than he had been more than ten years ago.

Prince Jia’s eyes reddened, tears welling up. He choked out, “Teacher…”

Chapter 58: Water Dragon Song (Part 3) -2

Xu He Xue sheathed his sword. Qian Wei Yin seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Looking at Jiang Xian Ming’s fine clothes, then down at his own beggarly attire, he gave a wry smile. “Among our old friends, only you are so successful.”

“Did you abandon your post and flee because of Du Cong, or someone above him?” Jiang Xian Ming didn’t beat around the bush.

Hearing this, Qian Wei Yin’s eyes widened in surprise. “You… what do you know?”

“You should have heard about Du Cong. His ledger is in my hands. Recently, I’ve also been investigating a secret ledger from Manyu Bank.” Jiang Xian Ming had been worried about how to continue the investigation, but unexpectedly, someone had come knocking. This fugitive, Qian Wei Yin, had taken the initiative to contact him.

“Old Qian, you’ve sent a lot of money to Du Cong over the years. But among you people, only you were demoted.”

Jiang Xian Ming’s words struck a nerve with Qian Wei Yin. His face was ashen, and he sighed deeply. “That’s because I couldn’t afford to pay anymore.”

“You passed the imperial examinations, why didn’t you know your place?” Jiang Xian Ming’s feelings were complex. When he had associated with this man, he had been full of spirit and ambition.

“Know my place? How could I?” Qian Wei Yin, dressed in filthy rags, devoid of his former official demeanor, sat down on the ground. “Jing Nian, I’ve been stuck in the mire for sixteen years.”

“Sixteen years ago, Du Cong, then known as Du San Cai, was ordered to transport military rations from the Daizhou granary to the Yongzhou border. That year, you were the Assistant Magistrate in Daizhou.”

Qian Wei Yin’s expression changed as he heard the veiled young man speak. He turned to look at him.

“Qian Wei Yin, did your mire begin sixteen years ago at the Daizhou granary?”

Xu He Xue stared at him from behind his veil.

Qian Wei Yin remained silent.

Hearing the mention of sixteen years ago, and Xu He Xue’s reference to Du Cong transporting grain, Jiang Xian Ming’s heart skipped a beat. He was filled with uncertainty and immediately said, “Old Qian, you asked me to see you, wasn’t it to explain everything to me?”

Qian Wei Yin looked at the straw sandals on his feet. He thought about his escape from his post, about hiding all this time. His throat tightened. “Yes, my troubles started sixteen years ago at the Daizhou granary.”

“That year, General Yu Jie was fighting the Danqiu barbarians at the border. The Emperor issued an edict, ordering the nearby Daizhou to open its granary to supply military rations to the border for emergency relief. But, Jing Nian, Daizhou had no grain…”

“How could there be no grain?” Jiang Xian Ming was incredulous. “I’ve seen past reports from Daizhou. The Daizhou Governor that year clearly stated that there were ample grain reserves. That’s why the Emperor ordered Daizhou to release grain for emergency relief.”

Qian Wei Yin nodded. “The report wasn’t wrong. There were originally enough grain reserves. But the Emperor’s birthday was approaching, and Daizhou was building a Taoist palace. The funds allocated by the court weren’t enough. The Governor was worried about missing the deadline, so he came up with an idea—to sell grain from the granary to temporarily resolve the urgent need. If the Emperor hadn’t suddenly issued the edict to open the granary, we would have had a chance to cover it up.”

“You dared to sell the court’s grain?!”

Jiang Xian Ming was both shocked and furious.

“When Du Cong arrived, there was no grain left. We were guilty of a capital offense. He was delayed on the road, which was also a capital offense. But he told us someone could protect us.”

“Who?”

Qian Wei Yin shook his head. “I still don’t know who it is. The grain carts Du Cong transported to Yongzhou were empty. Only we knew this. He escaped the death penalty, and we escaped with him. Because of this, we were tied to Du Cong. Those who obeyed were promoted, those who disobeyed, those who dared to go to the capital, died on the way.”

“Then how dare you risk your life coming to Yun Jing now?” Jiang Xian Ming said coldly.

“Among those people, there was one who climbed higher than me and took my daughter.” Qian Wei Yin’s eyes moistened as he clenched his fists. “Two years ago, she died.”

“Jing Nian, I don’t want my life anymore. I just want to ask you, do you dare to handle this matter?”

Do you dare?

Jiang Xian Ming was speechless for a moment, then said, “Come with me first.”

Ni Su had remained silent, listening to Qian Wei Yin and Jiang Xian Ming. After Jiang Xian Ming left with his men, she and Xu He Xue walked down the street with their lamps, noticing his unusual silence.

“With Qian Wei Yin as a witness, why is Censor Jiang hesitant?”

Ni Su broke the silence.

Xu He Xue came back to his senses. “Even if Jiang Xian Ming dares to submit a memorial, the Emperor will likely ignore it, or even punish him.”

“Why…” Ni Su stopped abruptly, suddenly understanding. After the grain in the Daizhou granary was embezzled, all the money was used to build the Taoist palace for the Emperor. The Daizhou granary incident implicated those dozen officials. None of them dared to mention it, precisely because they knew where the root of the problem lay.

Bringing up the Daizhou granary incident was tantamount to accusing the Emperor.

Would Jiang Xian Ming dare to mention it, and would the Emperor dare to admit it?

“Then your case…” Ni Su’s heart was heavy.

If even Jiang Xian Ming didn’t dare, who in the world would?

Xu He Xue didn’t speak. Finally, he had pieced together the truth of the grain supply case. The silence of those officials had resulted in the Jing’an Army’s 30,000 soldiers being left without supplies, forced to fight on empty stomachs.

“General, oh, young Jinshi! Just listen to me and eat this half of a sesame cake! You’ve given yours to the men, what about yourself?”

In his memory, someone stuffed a hard, stale half of a sesame cake into his hand.

“This is terrible, Xue Huai,”

He threw the sesame cake back. “I only eat the sesame cakes from Pang’s shop in Yongzhou City.”

“Come on, General, don’t think I don’t know you just want me to eat it.” Xue Huai said with a hearty laugh.

That half of a sesame cake was eventually broken in two.

Xu He Xue no longer remembered what that sesame cake tasted like. He only remembered that it was truly awful.

Fighting on empty stomachs wasn’t the entire truth behind the Jing’an Army’s massacre at Mu Shen Mountain. Xu He Xue had employed the tactic of living off the land, using the barbarians’ supplies to feed his troops. It was only difficult at first; later, the deeper they went into barbarian territory, the less they had to endure hunger.

However, Xu He Xue believed that the person behind Du Cong in the grain supply case was inextricably linked to the treason charges against him and the Jing’an Army.

“Xu Zi Ling.”

Suddenly, Xu He Xue heard the woman beside him call his name. He looked up and saw Ni Su stop, her eyes studying him intently. He felt the weight of his attire, while some things could no longer be hidden.

“Before your death, your teacher hoped you would become a civil official. When you said you disappointed him, did you mean you became a military official in Yongzhou?”

Otherwise, Ni Su couldn’t understand why he hated Du Cong so much, and how the grain supply case, concealed by those officials, could be related to him.

Xu He Xue hadn’t known how to tell her about his identity, but since Jiang Xian Ming’s case, he had stopped hiding from Ni Su.

She was an intelligent woman. Hearing tonight’s events, how could she not figure it out?

Later, she would learn that he wasn’t just a military official, but also the General Yu Jie that Qian Wei Yin had mentioned.

The night wind blew Xu He Xue’s robes. His pale shadow and her dark shadow were clearly distinct in the lamplight. “Will you believe me?”

“Believe you about what?”

“I…”

Xu He Xue’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He didn’t care about the slander and misunderstandings of others, but Ni Su, before him, made him feel apprehensive and uneasy.

He said, “Ni Su, I truly desire your trust.”

Chapter 58: Water Dragon Song (Part 3) -1

The Yin Ye Si officers quickly arrived to clean up the corpses by Yong’an Lake. Zhou Ting brought Ni Su back to her clinic on Nan Huai Street. A subordinate reported, “Young Master Zhou, we’ve examined them. They all have sword wounds.”

Ni Su, a frail woman with no martial arts training, how could she use a sword? But Zhou Ting remembered seeing another figure in the dim, rainy night. Yet, inexplicably, as he approached on horseback, only Ni Su remained.

The wound beneath his robes had split open, the blood sticking uncomfortably to the fabric. Zhou Ting remained composed, turning to look at the young woman inside, wrapped in a cloak, lighting a lamp.

Her legs seemed still weak, her steps slow, and she appeared somewhat dazed. After lighting the lamp, she sat at the table, head bowed, motionless.

Zhou Ting entered, poured a cup of hot tea and placed it in front of her. He then took two steps back and bowed with clasped hands. “Miss Ni, I apologize. This incident has implicated you because of me.”

Ni Su finally regained her senses, recalling what the assassins had said by Yong’an Lake. “Young Master Zhou, I don’t understand. Why did they think capturing me would lure you?”

Zhou Ting paused for a moment before answering, “My mother came to see you today. Coupled with the rumors Wu Dai deliberately spread about us, they assumed that you and I…”

The words “have feelings” lingered unspoken. Zhou Ting looked at the woman before him, her hair damp, her lips pale. His grip on his sword hilt tightened involuntarily. He suddenly remembered his mother’s question.

When Ni Su heard the first part of his sentence, she immediately thought of the woman who had visited her earlier. So, that was Young Master Zhou’s mother.

“But why did your mother come to see me?”

Zhou Ting hesitated, concealing his mother’s intentions. “She heard about you and wanted to meet you. Miss Ni, this incident was an unexpected disaster for you. From today onwards, I will assign people to protect you nearby. If you have any problems, please don’t hesitate to ask me. As long as it doesn’t violate the law, I will certainly help.”

“There’s no need, Young Master Zhou.”

Ni Su shook her head. If the Yin Ye Si people came to guard her again, how could she conveniently go out with Xu Zi Ling, light lamps for him, and guide his way?

Zhou Ting hadn’t expected her refusal. He was taken aback, then said, “If we don’t do this, I’m worried they will try the same trick again. I was a step too late today. I wonder, who was the person who saved you?”

The mere silhouette in the rainy night remained on Zhou Ting’s mind.

“I don’t know.”

Ni Su picked up the teacup but didn’t drink. “I didn’t even see him clearly.”

She didn’t know if Zhou Ting believed her. After a moment, he said, “In that case, leave the investigation to me. Please rest assured, Miss Ni, I won’t let these people go.”

Since she said she didn’t know, Zhou Ting couldn’t press further. After all, this incident stemmed from him. He wouldn’t demand a definite answer from her like he would when interrogating officials at the Yin Ye Si.

As he was about to leave, Zhou Ting noticed Ni Su’s soaked clothes. “Miss Ni, be careful not to catch a cold. Also, this is medicine for injuries, bestowed by the palace upon the Yin Ye Si.”

He took a porcelain bottle from his pocket. It was stained with blood. He wiped it with his fingertips and placed the bottle on the table. He glanced down and saw the bloody gash on her palm. “If it’s inconvenient, I…”

“I can manage it myself. Thank you, Young Master Zhou.”

Ni Su looked up at him.

The lamplight in the room reflected in her clear eyes. Zhou Ting looked at her, then quickly averted his gaze. “Alright.”

Such a deep wound, yet she only had slightly reddened eyes, no tears. Just like the first time Zhou Ting saw her at the Yin Ye Si, she wasn’t a woman without fear, but her fear never made her weak.

After Zhou Ting left, Ni Su changed into clean clothes and applied the medicine to her wound, wrapping it simply with a thin cloth. After finishing, she didn’t leave the room.

This was Xu Zi Ling’s room. On the desk were several books he often read. His brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone were neatly arranged. A faint, comforting fragrance lingered in the room.

Ni Su took off her shoes and wrapped herself in his quilt, her eyes fixed on the flickering candle flame. The night rain continued. She called out, “Xu Zi Ling.”

Faint mist swirled, but it couldn’t coalesce into his form.

As dawn approached, the clouds dispersed, and the rain stopped. Ni Su fell into a deep sleep on the bed. Cold wind blew in through the slightly open lattice window, extinguishing the last candle in the room.

The faint mist condensed into a pale figure. His pallid fingers closed the lattice window, stilling the light green curtains.

He walked to the bed. The young woman’s dark hair was disheveled, a few strands clinging to her pale cheeks. Half her face was pressed against the edge of the quilt, the pillow now nestled in her arms.

The thin cloth wrapped around her outstretched hand was very loose, revealing the wound on her palm, crusted with bright red blood.

Xu He Xue turned and saw the porcelain bottle on the table. His spectral body was fragile, burdened by the punishments he had endured. He moved slowly, from retrieving the medicine to returning to the bedside.

He sprinkled the medicine powder on her palm and found a clean cloth to carefully bandage the wound. His movements were gentle throughout.

Listening to her shallow breathing, Xu He Xue finished tending to her wound and placed his hands on his knees, unable to help but gaze at her face.

Her brow suddenly furrowed.

Xu He Xue heard her mumble in her sleep, her lips moving slightly, her voice indistinct. He leaned closer, and her warm breath brushed against him as she murmured, “Xu Zi Ling…”

Xu He Xue stiffened, then sat up straight.

Sunlight gradually brightened, slanting in through the lattice window. He sat quietly in the light, his features as cold as snow-covered pine branches, his mind occupied by her dream.

The dream she was having now, about him.

Suddenly, Xu He Xue heard the rustling of fabric. He looked up and saw Ni Su, who had been asleep just moments ago, now awake, looking at her newly bandaged hand.

“I dreamt of you.”

Ni Su’s voice was hoarse with sleep.

Xu He Xue’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you ask me what I dreamt about you?” Ni Su looked at him. His form was still somewhat faint, the sunlight falling on him appearing thin and cold.

“What?” he asked.

“I dreamt of what happened last night at Yong’an Lake. The only difference was that you turned into mist and disappeared,” Ni Su hugged his pillow. “Fortunately, I saw you as soon as I woke up.”

Water droplets remaining in the crevices of the eaves dripped, gently tapping on Xu He Xue’s mind. After a while, he said, “When that day comes, I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

His voice was controlled and calm.

Ni Su remained silent for a long time, instinctively avoiding the word “goodbye.” She looked at the closed lattice window. “It seems like the rain has stopped.”

But the kite wasn’t finished yet.

With the clear sky, Xu He Xue, whose spectral body was weak, used the little time he could maintain his form to make the kite or look at the ledger. He memorized the official promotions and transfers of the dozen officials from the Jiang residence over the past fifteen years. The only connection between these names was the route between Daizhou and Yongzhou fifteen years ago.

Fifteen years ago, they were all officials along the route from Daizhou to Yongzhou.

Understanding this wasn’t difficult. The difficulty lay in the fact that these officials, despite their promotions over the fifteen years, were not in the capital. To investigate, they had to go to Daizhou.

“Neither of us needs to go to Daizhou. Among these people, there’s one who was demoted to Fengzhou two years ago, named Qian Wei Yin. He was my classmate, and we exchanged letters during festivals. But last year, he suddenly disappeared from his post, his whereabouts unknown. Last night, however, I received a handwritten letter from him, saying he’s here and asking me to come, saying he has something to confess.”

Jiang Xian Ming stood in front of a dilapidated house, speaking softly to the young man and woman beside him.

The old steward held a lamp for him, while Ni Su and Xu He Xue each carried a glazed lamp. Under their veiled hats, their eyes were fixed on the crooked, almost collapsing courtyard gate.

“I don’t have any skilled martial artists around me, that’s why I asked you to come, Young Master.” After the previous assassination attempt, Jiang Xian Ming had become much more cautious.

Xu He Xue said nothing, using his scabbard to push open the courtyard gate. Inside was pitch black. Only after they entered did some light fill the courtyard.

It was a long-neglected, dilapidated courtyard, weeds growing between the bricks, the ground covered in thick dust.

“Old Qian, it’s Jiang Xian Ming. Where are you?”

Jiang Xian Ming looked around, but saw no one. He raised his voice.

After waiting for a while, Ni Su didn’t hear any movement. The lamplight illuminated the cobwebs hanging under the eaves, swaying slightly in the night breeze.

“Old Qian?” Jiang Xian Ming frowned, suspecting he had been tricked.

But the handwriting on the letter was indeed Qian Wei Yin’s. He shouldn’t have mistaken it.

Xu He Xue suddenly turned his head, his eyes fixed on the dark main hall. He keenly detected a slight sound and quickly climbed the steps. The warm yellow lamplight followed him into the hall. Ni Su saw him draw his sword. Soon, a figure rose from the shadows amidst a pile of debris.

He was dressed in rags, his hair disheveled, his beard covering half his face. He looked utterly dishevelled and defeated.

“Jiang Xian Ming, I trusted you, that’s why I risked contacting you. But why did you bring these people!” The man’s neck was stiff, his voice tinged with anger.

“You’ve been missing for a year. I suddenly received your letter, how could I not be suspicious? Old Qian, these are trustworthy people. You don’t need to be afraid.”

Jiang Xian Ming followed Ni Su into the hall, lifting his robe. He looked Qian Wei Yin over before saying, “Why don’t we talk about why you asked me to meet you?”

Chapter 57: Water Dragon Song (Part 2)

Zhou Ting hurried back to his residence from the Yin Ye Si in the pouring rain. He didn’t bother with an umbrella. Crossing the courtyard and climbing the steps, he saw his mother, Lady Lan, sitting in the hall, drinking tea.

“Mother.”

Zhou Ting entered. Rainwater dripped from his clothes. “What urgent matter made you call me back so hastily?”

“If I hadn’t said it was urgent, would you have come back so quickly?” Lady Lan said, noticing his pale face. She reached out, supported by a maidservant, and rose to approach him. Wiping the rain from his face and clothes with an embroidered handkerchief, she continued, “Son, you’re still injured. You just won’t listen to me and stay home to recuperate longer.”

“Mother, I’m fine.”

Zhou Ting shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Although Emperor Zheng Yuan hadn’t yet issued an official decree replacing private banknotes with government-issued ones, Zhou Ting hadn’t been having an easy time lately. He had endured open and covert ostracization, as well as occasional assassination attempts. His injuries weren’t sustained in a single incident, but he hadn’t revealed any of this to his mother, simply saying it was due to official business.

“You’re my son. How could I not worry? Both you and your father are so tight-lipped, never telling me anything. He’s been an official in Wanjiang for so many years and never comes back. Though you’re in the capital, you’re rarely home. How long do you want me to keep this house alone?”

Lady Lan handed the damp handkerchief to a maidservant. “Ding Zhao, you wouldn’t come home when your father was in the capital, and you haven’t come back much since he went to Wanjiang. I know you’re afraid I’ll say those things again. But, Ding Zhao, we’re your parents. Would we ever harm you? We weren’t afraid that you joining the Yin Ye Si as a military official would make people laugh at our family. We’re afraid you’ve chosen the wrong path. Look at those officials, who don’t regard civil officials and scholars as honorable? Your superior is a eunuch. Even if someone else becomes the Director of the Yin Ye Si, it will still be a eunuch. How can it ever be your turn? How can you have a bright future like this?”

“Mother,”

Zhou Ting lowered his eyes. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll return to the Yin Ye Si. I’ve been busy lately. I’ll come back to see you when I have time.”

Seeing him bow and turn to leave, Lady Lan called out to him again. “Ding Zhao, you’re twenty-three this year. If you have someone in your heart, you should tell me.”

Hearing this, Zhou Ting turned back and met Lady Lan’s gaze.

Lady Lan sat down again and took the teacup offered by the maidservant, blowing away the tea foam. “I’ve heard some rumors, saying you have frequent interactions with that Ni girl who appealed to the Dengwen Drum Court for her brother.”

Hearing her mention Ni Su, Zhou Ting couldn’t help but take two steps forward, frowning. “Mother, such rumors were mostly fabricated by Wu Dai to frame Wu Ji Kang. My acquaintance with Miss Ni is solely due to the Winter Examination case.”

“I didn’t ask about that. A young lady’s reputation is extremely important, don’t I know that? Today, we’re just mother and son, speaking privately. I went to see that young lady today.”

Lady Lan took a sip of hot tea.

Zhou Ting’s heart sank. “Mother, what did you go see her for?”

Lady Lan smiled faintly. “I didn’t go to make things difficult for her. I just wanted to see what kind of girl she is, unafraid of torture and death.”

“I think she’s very pretty, looks like someone people would like,” Lady Lan placed the teacup on the table, carefully observing Zhou Ting’s expression. “Ding Zhao, our family is small, and we don’t have that many rules. She’s an orphan who went to such lengths for her brother; she’s a rare girl. If you have feelings for her, Mother can grant your wish.”

“Ding Zhao, tell me, what are your thoughts?”

Zhou Ting’s mind was in turmoil. He looked at his mother’s face. As the rain pattered, he was about to speak, but suddenly remembered something. He immediately said, “Mother, matters at the agency are pressing. I must go now.”

Before Lady Lan could react, he had already strode out the door.

Chao Yi Song was yawning outside the Zhou residence. Hearing the hurried footsteps, he immediately ran forward with an umbrella. “Young Master Zhou, where are you going?”

“Nan Huai Street.” Zhou Ting mounted his horse. The wounds under his robes had split open a bit, but he ignored them. He asked Chao Yi Song, “Why didn’t you tell me about my mother going to Nan Huai Street?”

“Madam… told me not to,” Chao Yi Song replied weakly.

Due to the recent open and covert targeting of Zhou Ting by court officials, Chao Yi Song had brought a group of his men to guard the Zhou residence, in case anyone tried to harm Lady Lan.

“Don’t you know my current situation?”

“What…”

Chao Yi Song was taken aback, then realized, “Sir, you’re worried that after Madam’s visit, those people will target Miss Ni…”

Before he could finish, Zhou Ting had already spurred his horse forward.

“Quick, follow Young Master Zhou!” Chao Yi Song’s expression turned serious, and he immediately summoned several men and gave the order.

Because it was raining and nearing dusk, the sky was dark. There weren’t many pedestrians on the street. The sound of hooves was rapid and clear. Zhou Ting quickly arrived at Nan Huai Street, but after knocking on the clinic’s door several times, no one answered.

A-Fang from the herbal medicine shop across the street watched him for a while before coming out and calling, “Are you looking for Sister Ni?”

Zhou Ting turned around and saw a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl. He walked over, his clothes almost completely soaked by the rain. “Do you know where she went?”

“She went to Yong’an Lake,” A-Fang said.

Nightfall came quickly on a rainy day. Ni Su held a willow branch and a paper umbrella as she walked back. Her shoes and socks were soaked through, and her skirt was muddy, making her uncomfortable.

A few lamps still flickered by the lake, reflecting the puddles at her feet. Ni Su lowered her head, seeing the faint mist clinging to the edges of her sleeves.

The rain had only stopped for a while last night and this morning, starting again in the afternoon. Xu He Xue had only managed to complete the bamboo frame of the kite. They had visited the Jiang residence in the afternoon and spoken with Censor Jiang. After returning, Xu He Xue couldn’t maintain his form and dissipated into mist.

Ni Su lit many lamps and sat alone under the eaves until she realized there were no willow leaves left at home. Only then did she go out to Yong’an Lake to gather more.

The constant dripping of the rain was irritating.

There were no pedestrians by the lake, only clusters of light in the distant canvas sheds. Occasionally, the scent of food drifted through the damp mist.

“Is it her?” A pair of eyes peered from the dark shadows, watching the young woman’s back.

“Yes.”

Another hoarse voice answered. “There have been rumors about her and Zhou Ting. Our men saw Zhou Ting’s mother, Lady Lan, entering this woman’s clinic today. It seems something good is about to happen.”

“Something good?” The man sneered sinisterly. “If Zhou Ting truly values this woman, we’ll turn the Zhou family’s good fortune into a funeral!”

Raindrops fell on cold blades. More than ten men, their faces half-covered by black cloths, emerged from the shadows.

The sound of footsteps splashing in the rain was heavy. Almost the instant Ni Su heard these sounds, she turned around. Just as a cold light flashed before her eyes, she was surrounded by these men with swords and knives, their faces obscured.

“What do you want?”

Ni Su remained relatively calm.

“If you come with us obediently, we won’t take your life,” the leader of the black-clad men said in a rough voice.

“Why should I go with you?”

Ni Su saw the fierce eyes of the man peeking out from beneath his cloth.

The man didn’t intend to say anything more. With a tilt of his chin, one of his companions stepped forward, pressing a blade against Ni Su’s neck. He used so much force that the back of the blade struck her shoulder and neck, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground in the rain.

“Brother, to lure Zhou Ting, we need a token. This woman isn’t obedient. I say, let’s cut off one of her hands and send it to the Zhou residence.”

The man with the hoarse voice narrowed his eyes, pinning Ni Su to the ground with the back of his blade.

“Do it.”

The leader gave the order, and two men immediately held Ni Su down. The canvas sheds in the distance were still lively. Ni Su opened her mouth to scream, but a hand tightly covered her mouth, the force almost crushing her bones.

One of her hands was pinned to the ground, her palm pierced by the fallen willow branches. She saw the raised blade, its sharp, cold edge glinting faintly in the dim light.

Ni Su’s eyes widened. Her muffled screams were reduced to whimpers. Her hand curled into a fist, the sharp edges of the willow branches cutting a long gash in her palm.

The blade fell. Ni Su squeezed her eyes shut.

A cold wind swept across her face, almost slanting the rain. A dull thud of flesh being cut sounded, followed by a short, sharp cry.

Ni Su felt something warm and wet on her cheek. She opened her eyes. The color dripping onto her clothes was crimson. She realized belatedly that it was blood.

Amidst the rain and mist, the young man in light green robes stood before her. His eyes were vacant, his form faint, so faint that even these seasoned killers couldn’t help but shiver.

They dared not approach. Their instinctive reaction was to flee, which inadvertently made it easier for Xu He Xue to locate them by sound. In the dense fog and secluded location, even the rain couldn’t mask the screams.

Xu He Xue’s figure flickered, appearing and disappearing. After listening carefully, he heard no more sounds. Only then did his grip on the sword loosen. The long sword shattered into fine dust, merging with his form.

Remembering the direction he had touched her, he took a few steps forward. “Ni Su?”

Corpses littered the ground. Ni Su hardly dared to look. Even that night in the alley when he had gone to rescue Jiang Xian Ming, she hadn’t seen clearly from outside. This was the first time she had directly faced such a bloody scene.

He was actually very close to her now, so close that Ni Su could reach out and tug on his sleeve.

Xu He Xue sensed her pull. His unhealed wounds made it difficult for him to squat down. His entire form was fading.

He was about to speak when Ni Su suddenly threw herself into his arms.

Xu He Xue stiffened, feeling her trembling. Her warm breath hit his chest, her suppressed sobs very close.

Xu He Xue pursed his lips. His form was difficult to maintain. He gently patted her shoulder, offering silent comfort.

“Is there a lot of blood on my face…”

She murmured, her voice trembling.

It was the blood of the man who had almost cut off her hand.

Unable to see, Xu He Xue groped to wipe her face with his sleeve.

The damp cloth, his cold fingers. Ni Su’s face was cupped in his hands. She looked up, but suddenly, the sensation on her cheeks vanished. His form was fading into mist.

Ni Su immediately looked at her own sleeves. Rainwater dripped down her chin. The mist clinging to her sleeve was still there, it hadn’t disappeared.

The sound of hooves approached, growing louder.

Zhou Ting seemed to see two figures from afar, but for some reason, as he drew closer, only the young woman sitting on the ground remained. Corpses lay scattered in the rain, and she sat amidst the winding streams of blood, her eyes lowered.

“Miss Ni!”

Zhou Ting dismounted and rushed to her side.

Ni Su lifted her head, her pale face wet with rain and tears.

Chapter 56: Water Dragon Song (Part 1)

“You ask me so suddenly, I can’t think of anything at the moment.” Ni Su carefully wiped his face and tossed the handkerchief into the basin. “I’ll tell you when I’ve thought it through.”

She knew he would never be willing to take off his bloodstained clothes in front of her, nor would he show her the wounds beneath his robes. So she said nothing more and fetched clean willow leaf water.

Ni Su came and went. Once the door closed, Xu He Xue propped himself up on the bed with one hand. He didn’t know how many of his wounds, already crusted with bright red blood, had split open again. His pale knuckles unhooked his belt, and he slowly took off his outer and middle robes. The silk screen partially concealed his pale and emaciated body, which looked much the same as before his death. Because of his five years at the border, wielding halberds, swords, and taming wild horses, his body was toned and well-defined, not as thin as ordinary young men.

But the cuts on his body were too numerous. Crimson blood flowed down. He silently wiped himself with a cloth wrung from the basin. Dust motes danced in the bright candlelight, allowing him to see his body even more clearly. Despite the intense pain, he wiped himself over and over again.

Only when the wounds stopped bleeding did he dress himself, fastening each button meticulously. Once finished, he lay on the bed and pulled the quilt over himself.

Two glazed lamps sat on the stool by the bed, their translucent shades casting a warm yellow light. He rested his cheek on the soft pillow, staring at them.

These lamps were bought by Ni Su from a glassmaking shop when they were on their way to find Jiang Xian Ming.

She had said that, this way, neither of them would have to fear going out on rainy nights.

Xu He Xue closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep, nor did he dream. But at this moment, hearing the rustling of the night rain, dressed in clean clothes and wrapped in a brocade quilt, he felt at peace.

Yet, in the middle of the night, he suddenly threw off the quilt and got up. In the bright candlelight, he walked with difficulty to the desk, poured water to grind ink, spread out a sheet of paper, and began to write, accompanied by the sound of the rain.

The unnamed individuals on the secret ledger had been almost entirely identified by Jiang Xian Ming, who had written their names in the ledger as annotations.

Soon, more than a dozen names were added to the paper.

Xu He Xue sat at the desk, one hand on the corner, the ink already dry. Yet, he couldn’t find any connection between these names for the moment.

These people had been sending money to Du Cong and those above him for fifteen years. Even Du Cong, though the ledger showed substantial transactions, had less than half the amount recorded in his confiscated assets.

Fifteen years. It was precisely fifteen years.

Xu He Xue glanced over the names on the paper again.

Not a single one was a capital official.

The spring rain continued for several days, shrouding Yun Jing in a moist mist. Within the imperial city, besides the mist, there was a further layer of gloom.

Emperor Zheng Yuan, a believer in Daoism, had ordered Prince Jia, Zhao Yi, to compose a prayer for a purification ritual a few days prior. However, Prince Jia delayed for a day or two, and finally knelt outside Qing He Palace, crying out, “Yong Geng is foolish, doesn’t understand the Dao, and cannot write a single word.”

This act immediately enraged the Emperor. That night, Prince Jia was taken to Zhong Ming Palace by the Palace Guard and placed under house arrest.

Interrogators came wave after wave. Prince Jia was terrified and speechless, unable to answer their questions. From dusk till dawn, Princess Jia, Li Xi Zhen, finally obtained permission to enter Zhong Ming Palace. Prince Jia was sitting alone in a deep shadow, hugging his knees, his eyes vacant.

“Your Highness.”

Li Xi Zhen carried a food box to Prince Jia, squatted down, and carefully examined his face. Her eyes were filled with distress. She couldn’t help but reach out and touch his face.

“Xi Zhen.”

Prince Jia murmured her name. “I’m sorry, I’ve frightened you.”

“Your Highness wants to take me back to Tongzhou, right?” Li Xi Zhen knew the heavy thoughts hidden in her husband’s heart.

Prince Jia didn’t answer, but looked around. After a while, he said, “Xi Zhen, I was foolishly made Prince Jia when I was young. I lived here then. The palace servants all knew the Emperor didn’t like me, and they mistreated me openly and secretly. Later, when Prince An came, sometimes I couldn’t even get a full meal. If it weren’t for Zi…”

As soon as he uttered the name, Prince Jia’s eyes moistened, and he couldn’t speak the rest. “After that, something happened to him, then my teacher and Minister Meng. I was imprisoned here for three whole years. This place doesn’t hold good memories for me, Xi Zhen. I’m even afraid of this place. After coming back for so many days, I haven’t dared to sleep, haven’t dared to dream. But my mind is still filled with the anxieties of those years in the palace…”

“I know everything about Your Highness, and I understand. The Emperor has no sons. His sudden decision to keep you here must be based on some consideration. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have risked refusing to write the prayer.”

Li Xi Zhen and Prince Jia were childhood sweethearts. She knew his temperament and the things he had experienced.

Prince Jia felt more fear than love and respect for Emperor Zheng Yuan.

The knot in his heart was a shadow that loomed over his entire life. He had finally escaped, but now he had to live under its shadow again. He was utterly unwilling.

His act was a deliberate provocation of the Emperor, hoping that, like before, the Emperor would, in absolute disgust, completely banish his incompetent adopted son.

“Xi Zhen, you know I came back to see my teacher.”

Prince Jia’s hair was disheveled, a few strands falling over his temples. He reached out and grasped his wife’s shoulders. “Since my teacher won’t see me, there’s no need for you and me to stay in Yun Jing any longer. Let’s go back, back to Tongzhou. I don’t want anything, I don’t ask for anything. I only want you to be healthy, and for us to live out our lives, that’s all…”

Li Xi Zhen remained silent. She looked at the man before her. She had seen him as a child and had accompanied him through his youth. “Your Highness, do you truly… not want it?”

She suddenly asked.

Not want what?

Prince Jia’s stubbled chin tightened. He said hoarsely, “I don’t want it, Xi Zhen. I only want to go back with you.”

---

Ni Su returned with another basket of incense and candles. As she entered the main hall of the clinic, she heard voices behind her: “Madam, I believe it’s here.”

She turned to see two maidservants supporting an elegantly dressed woman in plain clothes. The woman looked her up and down as she turned.

“Excuse me, Madam, are you here to see the doctor?” Ni Su placed the basket aside and approached to inquire.

“I have a physician at home. I don’t need your services, young lady.” The woman spoke in a gentle tone.

Ni Su paused, then nodded. “In that case, may I ask why you’ve come?”

“Are you surnamed Ni? Ni Su?”

The woman asked, still observing her.

“Yes.”

Ni Su nodded. Noticing the woman seemed to buckle slightly at her left knee, she asked, “Is your knee bothering you? Would you like to come in and sit down?”

The woman only hesitated for a moment before nodding. Supported by her maids, she entered.

The hall was tidy and clean. Even someone as fastidious as herself couldn’t find a single fault with the young woman’s clinic.

There was hot tea and snacks on the table. After sitting for a while, the woman saw the young lady emerge from the back, carrying hot water. Even before she approached, the scent of mugwort filled the air.

“Your knee is hurting. If you don’t mind, you can use this mugwort water to apply a compress,” Ni Su said, placing the basin on the stool. Since the maidservants were present, she didn’t apply it herself.

The two maidservants looked at their mistress.

The woman looked at Ni Su for a moment and gave them a slight nod.

Shielded by a screen, the maidservants lifted her dress and rolled up her silk trousers, applying the wrung-out hot cloth to her knee.

“I’ve heard people say you’re a remarkable young woman. What happened to your brother is truly regrettable,” the woman said, her brow relaxing slightly.

“I truly don’t deserve the word ‘remarkable.’ As his blood relative, I only did what I should have done,” Ni Su replied, tending the coals in the brazier and refilling the tea.

“The weather has been damp and rainy lately. If your knee often bothers you, Madam, you can use this method frequently. It can alleviate the pain somewhat.”

“How much do I owe you?”

The woman patted one of the maidservants on the shoulder, and the maidservant immediately reached for her purse. Ni Su quickly shook her head, smiling. “It’s only some mugwort water, and I didn’t even apply the compress myself. How could I accept your money?”

The woman remained silent, fingering her Buddhist prayer beads. She watched Ni Su. Once the maidservants finished applying the compress, she rose to leave.

Throughout the entire visit, she never explained her purpose.

“Madam, what do you think of her?” Outside the clinic, a maidservant helped the woman into the carriage and asked cautiously.

The woman sat upright in the carriage, turning her prayer beads. She carefully considered the young lady’s behavior. “She seems like a very fine person, well-mannered and sensible. At a glance, you can tell she received a good upbringing. If such a thing hadn’t happened to her family, she probably wouldn’t have to go out and make a living like this. It must be very difficult for a young woman.”

The carriage departed from the clinic’s entrance. Ni Su cleared the table. A-Fang, the young daughter of the opposite herbal medicine shop, who was only twelve or thirteen, had been coming over to Ni Su’s place frequently to play. Leaning on the table with one hand, she grumbled, “Didn’t you buy the mugwort from our shop? Shouldn’t that cost something? Besides, she’s strange. I don’t know what she came for.”

She had been playing outside when the woman arrived.

“It wasn’t worth much,” Ni Su said, giving her a candy. “Did you see the material of her clothes? Such fine attire, she must be from a wealthy family.”

Ni Su naturally had her own thoughts. Even though the woman didn’t need her medical services now, treating her with courtesy was never wrong.

A-Fang remained silent. Her mother said that women who treated female patients didn’t have a good reputation. But the sister in front of her was strange. She specialized in treating women, yet her reputation couldn’t be called bad. People both admired her courage in seeking justice for her brother and remained silent about her medical practice.

“Sister Ni, are you also waiting for the rain to stop?” A-Fang sat down on a chair, resting her chin on her hand, changing the subject.

Ni Su glanced at the fine rain and mist outside. Thinking of the person who had been unable to bathe with anything but willow leaf water for days, she nodded.

“I knew it! You must be secretly making a kite!”

A-Fang laughed.

A kite?

Ni Su was bewildered. “What kite?”

“I saw you with some bamboo sticks here yesterday!” A-Fang snorted, pointing to the corner. “How’s your kite coming along? Show it to me!”

“I’m not making one. What’s there to show you?” Ni Su chuckled and patted her head.

A-Fang’s mother called her back for dinner shortly after. Ni Su returned to the back corridor and smelled the aroma of food. She looked towards the kitchen and saw the young man in a light green round-collared robe. His hair was neatly combed and fastened with a white jade hairpin. He sat on the covered porch, holding flexible bamboo strips in his hand.

“Xu Zi Ling, didn’t I tell you I didn’t need you to cook these few days?” Ni Su walked over quickly, put down the basket of incense and candles, and sat down beside him, lifting her skirt.

“Do you know what you looked like last night, hiding in your room eating sugar cakes?” Xu He Xue’s eyes always held a hint of coldness. With the rain and mist swirling around, his face seemed even more aloof.

“What… how did you know?” Ni Su stammered, embarrassed.

“Your window was open.”

Xu He Xue had just come out of his room at the time and had glanced up to see her through the window, cheeks puffed out as she bit into a sugar cake, her expression as bitter as if she had just swallowed a bowl of medicine.

“I lost track of time reading medical books. Those are easy to eat,” Ni Su mumbled, then noticed the bamboo strips in his hand. Remembering what A-Fang had said, she couldn’t help but ask, “What are you making with those?”

“You said you couldn’t sleep that night and came to watch over me by my bed. You fell asleep leaning against the bed frame after a short while,” Xu He Xue scraped the burrs off the bamboo strips with a knife. “You talked in your sleep.”

Ni Su was stunned. “What did I say?”

“Why can’t my kite fly…” Xu He Xue’s emotionless voice didn’t imitate her tone; he simply relayed her words to her.

Ni Su was a little embarrassed and lowered her head. “Although I don’t remember, it must have been a dream about playing outside with my brother when we were young. My kite could never fly, and my brother wouldn’t help me.”

“So, you’re making a kite for me?”

As she asked, she unconsciously pursed her lips and looked up at him.

“Yes.”

Xu He Xue’s fingers pinched the bamboo strip. He then asked her, “Do you still want to fly a kite now?”

“…Yes,” Ni Su’s voice became very soft.

Hearing this, Xu He Xue turned to look at her. “That’s good. I was worried that you liked such things as a child but might not anymore.”

“You…”

Ni Su avoided his clear, beautiful eyes. For a moment, she didn’t even know where to put her hands. Rainwater soaked the wooden steps. She watched the raindrops fall. “How do you know how to make this?”

Xu He Xue stopped looking at her and focused on his task. “When I was young, my friend, to please a girl he had grown up with, tried to learn how to make one himself. But he was clumsy, and after several attempts, he still couldn’t do it, and even pricked his hand with the bamboo. So, he dragged me along to learn with him. In the end, he took the one I made and gave it to the girl.”

Ni Su finally heard him mention his past again. She rested her chin on her hand and smiled slightly. “Why did he take yours? Did you make it better than him?”

“Yes.”

Xu He Xue paused, placing one hand on his knee, as if carefully recalling. A faint smile touched his eyes. “If I remember correctly, the one he made was almost too ugly to look at.”

His figure was faint as mist. Perhaps his wounds hadn’t fully healed, but under such torment, as he remembered some lighthearted memories from the past, this man who seemed to be made of frost and snow seemed to be thawing slightly.

Ni Su looked at him, suddenly wanting to touch him.

But she didn’t.

The rain fell softly, the mist was damp. Xu He Xue quietly arranged the bamboo strips. Ni Su watched him from the side and said, “Like this, I’ll really look forward to the rain stopping.”

Chapter 55: Treading on Grass (Part 6)

“It’s you…” Jiang Xian Ming immediately recognized the voice of the person who had given him the ledger.

“What do you mean?” he asked, struggling to stand up, his hand on the wet ground. “When did I lie to you?”

“You said you followed Hu Li, the Manyu Bank manager, into the entertainment district on the Lantern Festival.”

“That’s correct,” Jiang Xian Ming nodded.

“And then?”

“There were too many people. I lost him,” he said, rainwater dripping from his hat.

“When did you enter the entertainment district?” Xu He Xue asked.

“Around the hour of the dog (7-9 pm),” Jiang Xian Ming replied, staring at the mysterious young man. “I’m telling you this because you saved me. You shouldn’t pry any further.”

“That’s enough,” Xu He Xue said, pressing his sword against Jiang Xian Ming’s chest. “You entered at the hour of the dog and left at the hour of the pig (9-11 pm). What were you doing during that time? Looking for Hu Li? If so, why didn’t you go upstairs? I was there too, and I didn’t see you.”

Jiang Xian Ming’s expression changed slightly. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Xu He Xue hadn’t actually seen Jiang Xian Ming at the entertainment district. It was Ni Su who had seen him while hiding Grand Commandant Miao.

His words were a bluff, but they elicited a reaction from Jiang Xian Ming.

Rainwater dripped from his sword. “Don’t worry. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have given you the ledger. I just want to know if I should have saved you tonight,” Xu He Xue said, his voice cold, his face hidden beneath the veiled hat.

“I’m still investigating Du Cong’s case. You gave me the ledger because you trust me to handle it,” Jiang Xian Ming said, looking at the wet veiled hat, unable to see the face beneath. “You’re clearly invested in this. You must have a grudge against Du Cong or someone above him.”

“Chief Censor, I want to know if you have Hu Li’s secret ledger,” Xu He Xue said calmly.

“What secret ledger?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, still composed.

Xu He Xue didn’t reply, only wiping the blood from his sword on Jiang Xian Ming’s crimson robe. The blood didn’t stain the fabric. “We both wear these robes. Some are clean, some are dirty. Which kind are you, Chief Censor?”

“I’ll ask you again. Do you have Hu Li’s secret ledger?”

“You’re a stranger. Why should I trust you?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, his gaze fixed on the sword.

“Chief Censor, please trust him,” a clear female voice called out from the alley entrance.

They both turned and saw a woman in a veiled hat, holding a glazed porcelain lantern, walking towards them, holding an umbrella, raindrops scattering like beads.

“You…” Xu He Xue shook his head at her, wanting her to turn back, to disappear into the shadows.

But she walked towards him resolutely and took his arm, supporting his weakened body.

“And who are you?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, looking at the veiled woman.

“Chief Censor, why are you so concerned about our names? You’re known throughout Yun Jing for your integrity. Everyone knows how you risked your life, volunteering to serve as the governor of Yongzhou during the war with the barbarians,” Ni Su said, bowing her head slightly. “We seek justice. The key to our grievance lies with Du Cong and those above him. We trusted you, so we gave you the ledger. If it weren’t for your investigation of the ‘Galloping Horse’ statue, you wouldn’t have been attacked tonight. This case is too complex for you to handle alone. Since we have a common goal, why not work together?”

“What kind of justice do you seek?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, staring at her.

Ni Su thought for a moment. “The kind that leaves this man beside me covered in wounds, unable to see his teacher and friends, unable to enjoy his youth, unable to avenge his past grievances… is that a sufficient answer?”

The bloodstains on Xu He Xue’s robe had stained the gauze of his veiled hat. He looked at her, his fingers clenching as she held his arm. He heard the rain and felt the phantom pain of his torture, his broken body, the blood and filth.

“Is that… truly the case?” Jiang Xian Ming looked at Xu He Xue, scrutinizing him, but his face was hidden.

His gaze fell on the red mole on his hand.

It looked familiar.

Xu He Xue, snapping out of his trance, his voice slightly hoarse, said, “Chief Censor, you haven’t reported this to the Emperor yet. Is it because the names in the secret ledger are also missing?”

His words struck a chord with Jiang Xian Ming, who paused, realizing he couldn’t deny having the ledger any longer. This stranger’s insight was unsettling.

He looked at the two figures before him, illuminated by their lanterns. He wiped the rain from his face. “Although the names are missing, I’ve identified most of them. Their names, their positions. But that’s not enough. Except for Wu Dai, there’s no trace of those above Du Cong.”

He sighed. “I haven’t reported it because I want to investigate further.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I see the secret ledger?” Xu He Xue asked. Seeing Jiang Xian Ming hesitate, he lowered his sword, the tip now resting on his robe. “Of course, you can refuse.”

Jiang Xian Ming reluctantly took the ledger from his robe.

“I did see Hu Li at the entertainment district that night. He was meeting someone in a private room. I was watching from outside when he suddenly rushed out, injured. He found me in the crowd and gave me this ledger. I suspect that with Du Cong’s disappearance, someone wanted to destroy the evidence,” Jiang Xian Ming finally confessed, looking at the young man examining the ledger under the woman’s umbrella. He noticed the bloodstains on his sleeve and a glimpse of a wound on his wrist. Remembering the woman’s words, he said, “If you’ve been wronged, Young Master, I, Jiang Xian Ming, will clear your name.”

Xu He Xue paused in his reading, his voice calm. “Thank you,” he said, without looking up.

The alley wasn’t far from Jiang’s residence. After showing Xu He Xue the ledger, Jiang Xian Ming saw his steward approaching with a group of servants, looking for him. He quickly tucked the ledger back into his robe and let his steward escort him home.

Ni Su supported Xu He Xue as they walked, his pace slow, forcing her to slow down as well. Sensing his difficulty, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Her embrace pressed against his wounds, making him wince. He lowered his eyes, seeing her pale face, raindrops clinging to her skin, now that she had removed her veiled hat. “Ni Su, don’t…” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Don’t hold me like this.

Ni Su was about to speak when his form suddenly faded, turning into white mist, clinging to her sleeve.

She was alone again.

The two lanterns clinked softly in her hand, their flames flickering, elongating her shadow.

But the faint, white light remained beside her, a fragile presence, as if it could dissipate at any moment.

Ni Su walked on silently, the white light accompanying her shadow.

The spring rain fell steadily. There was no moon tonight. Several lamps burned inside the clinic on Nan Huai Street, their warm light contained within the courtyard walls. Ni Su boiled willow water, entered the room, its many candles flickering, and placed the basin on a stool beside the bed.

The sound of her wringing the cloth startled the figure on the bed. He opened his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering.

Ni Su took his hand, and he instinctively tried to pull away, but she tightened her grip, his clear eyes meeting hers.

“Are you blaming me?” she asked, gently wiping the bloodstains from his fingers with the warm cloth.

“No,” Xu He Xue’s voice was hoarse and weak, his form faint as mist. “But Ni Su, we agreed you would wait for me at the alley entrance.”

“Mmm, I did,” she nodded, looking at his hand in the candlelight, its long, slender fingers elegant and graceful. “But I saw you standing there alone, and I thought… I should be by your side.”

“I forgot to listen to you. I’m sorry, Xu Zi Ling,” she said sincerely.

Xu He Xue felt the warmth of the cloth around his fingers, her gentle touch making his heart ache. He looked at her. “Why?”

Why had she come to him, why had she spoken to Jiang Xian Ming?

The execution platform in Yongzhou had destroyed his past. His life in Yun Jing, his teacher’s guidance, his brother and sister-in-law’s love, his carefree youth, the brush he had held, the poems and essays he had written—all turned to dust. People only remembered his disgrace, his betrayal.

He should be alone.

But she had come to him, making them “we.”

“You were there for me when I sought justice, when I was tortured. Whether it’s the people of this world or a ghost from Youdu, I think… we all hate being alone,” Ni Su said, her eyes welling up, unable to touch the gruesome wound on his arm. “Xu Zi Ling, your wounds… they pain me, but I can’t do anything to ease your pain…”

“You can,” Xu He Xue whispered.

“What?” Ni Su looked up.

Xu He Xue’s pale lips pressed together. He had spoken without thinking, and he couldn’t bring himself to say more. “Ni Su,” he said.

“Mmm?” she replied, rinsing the cloth and gently wiping his face.

He was about to speak, but her touch silenced him. He sat there, stiff and dazed, as she cleaned his face.

She was so close.

He saw her eyes were slightly red.

“What were you going to say?” she asked, her hand still gently wiping his face.

Xu He Xue, like a puppet under her control, let her touch him, her fingers tracing his nose, their fingertips brushing against his skin.

The slight tickle made his heart ache.

He took her wrist gently.

“There’s a scab here,” she whispered, “let me clean it.”

Her heart wasn’t calm.

Looking at his hand, his eyes, his face, made her hold her breath.

The rain fell softly outside. Xu He Xue felt cleansed by her touch, almost human again, not a formless, bloody mist.

“Ni Su, is there anything you want? I want to give you something,” he said.

Anything at all.

To thank her for her kindness, her beauty, for standing by his side, for caring about his pain.

Chapter 54: Treading on Grass (Part 5)

Leaving Manyu Bank, a soft spring rain fell, dusting Ni Su’s hair with tiny droplets. “Xu Zi Ling, look at yourself. You’re in this state. Must you go to Chief Censor Jiang’s residence now?”

They stood there, facing each other, no umbrella to shield them from the rain. Blood stained Xu He Xue’s sleeve, his face pale, his lips colorless. Raindrops washed away the blood trickling down his arm. “Did you hear what the manager said? Manager Hu Li took something with him when he left on the Lantern Festival.”

“…A book?” Ni Su recalled.

“Mmm,” Xu He Xue said. “I overlooked something. Although Du Cong’s ledger recorded his transactions, the officials involved, both high and low-ranking, were unnamed.”

“But the money flowed through Manyu Bank. They must have a secret ledger.”

“So, the book Hu Li took with him was likely the secret ledger?” Ni Su asked, the rain falling steadily, remembering the events of the Lantern Festival. “But who was he meeting at the entertainment district?”

Whoever it was, they must be connected to the names in the ledger.

“If Wu Dai deliberately inflicted his illness, he must have feared that although the Emperor spared his life, someone else might kill him. So he set a trap, leading the Yin Ye Si to Manyu Bank.”

The lantern flame died, plunging Xu He Xue into darkness. He paused, then continued, “But what at Manyu Bank would be worth investigating? Only the secret ledger.”

“Hu Li’s body was found at the entertainment district and taken by the Yin Ye Si. Although we didn’t have a chance to examine it, their reaction suggests they didn’t find anything. And they didn’t find what Wu Dai wanted them to find at Manyu Bank either.”

Xu He Xue, hearing only the rain, his eyes lifeless, called out softly, “Ni Su?”

“So you think Chief Censor Jiang has the secret ledger?” she asked.

“I’m only guessing. Jiang Xian Ming didn’t tell me the truth that night. And the Yin Ye Si releasing the Manyu Bank manager tonight is a message to those involved that they haven’t found the ledger.”

But who did have the ledger? Xu He Xue believed those involved must be anxious, searching for it.

“I must confirm this quickly. Delays are dangerous.”

Xu He Xue couldn’t see her expression in the rain-filled night. He straightened up and bowed towards her. “Ni Su, please… help me.”

“In this life…” he started to say, then stopped, realizing he was no longer alive.

He lowered his eyes. “As you said, I returned with the intention of finding an old friend, but the paths of the living and the dead are different. I thought, what good would it do? It would only bring more pain. But I have something more important to do, my only reason for returning.”

“Ni Su, you summoning me back is the most precious opportunity I’ve had in a century. I can’t delay. I’m afraid that a delay would be another fifteen years in the mortal realm.”

Fifteen years in the mortal realm was nearly a century in Youdu.

“And I don’t know if I’ll have another chance to meet you.”

Would anyone still remember the thirty thousand souls trapped in the pagoda after so long? This was his only chance, his reason for existing.

Ni Su watched him bow, his movements elegant and refined, yet his back straighter than any scholar she had ever met, a certain sharpness in his posture.

“But your eyes…” Ni Su said, her throat tightening. She felt a pang of sympathy for him. The time they had spent together had painted a clear picture of him in her mind, but she had deliberately avoided the details.

She would wait. He would tell her eventually.

“You’ll guide me, won’t you?” Xu He Xue asked, raising his hand, the bloodstains on his wrist stark against his pale skin.

Ni Su looked at his hand.

The rain blurred the flickering lantern light in the distance. She bit her lip and took his hand.

Cold and warm skin touched.

Raindrops mingled.

“Thank you, Ni Su,” Xu He Xue said, remembering her gently blowing on his wound in the storeroom at Manyu Bank.

The intense pain had lessened in that moment.

“Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, unable to ignore the warmth of her hand as she led him through the rain.

“I know,” Ni Su said, wiping the rain from her face. “I’m not angry. I just…”

How could she explain the ache in her heart?

She didn’t know. She paused, then said, “I told you to be kind to yourself, but it seems what you seek can only be achieved through your own suffering.”

He walked this path alone.

Just as he only accepted her help with lighting candles and guiding him, refusing to let her risk herself, he wouldn’t want his friends or his teacher to be involved.

A dead man, trying to protect the living.

“Have you ever considered giving up on medicine?” he suddenly asked.

Ni Su shook her head. “Never.”

The rain couldn’t dispel the coldness emanating from him. “I’m the same,” he said, raindrops clinging to his face.

The path was arduous, but they walked it willingly.

In the spring rain, the night market hadn’t opened yet, and the streets were deserted. The carriage rattled over the uneven pavement, splashing through puddles.

Jiang Xian Ming sat inside, his hands on his knees, his expression serious.

As the carriage entered a quieter street, the lights dimmed. Lost in thought, he was startled by the horse’s sudden neigh and the violent jolt of the carriage. “What’s happening?”

“Master!” the coachman cried, then a thud, the sound of a blade piercing flesh, and a figure collapsed onto the carriage curtain.

Jiang Xian Ming saw the young coachman, his eyes wide open, his chest bloodied, lying half inside the carriage, motionless. He looked up and saw several figures emerge from the rain, their shadows looming over him.

A flash of cold steel. Jiang Xian Ming grabbed the reins and whipped the horse, which bolted, galloping wildly.

The assassins pursued them, a blade piercing the carriage wall. Jiang Xian Ming dodged, whipping the horse again, heading towards the city patrol’s post.

The assassins, their movements swift and silent, pursued him across the rooftops, their footsteps mingling with the rain. Jiang Xian Ming, his heart pounding, heard a thud on the carriage roof.

He immediately released the reins and rolled off the carriage, landing hard on the ground. As he tried to stand, a blade pressed against his throat.

“Who are you?! How dare you attack a court official!” he shouted.

The assassins’ faces were hidden behind black masks. One of them gestured, and the blade was about to slice his throat when a sword pierced the rainy darkness, striking the assassin’s wrist. He cried out in pain, dropping his sword.

The assassins turned and saw a figure in bloodstained white robes, holding a lantern, their veiled hat drenched. Several assassins attacked, while their leader kicked the fallen sword towards Jiang Xian Ming, striking his leg.

Jiang Xian Ming fell into a puddle, the dirty water almost reaching his chin. He turned and saw the assassin raise his sword.

He instinctively raised his hands to shield his face, then heard a clang, a sharp, metallic sound. He looked up through his fingers and saw the descending blade blocked by a sword.

He saw the hand holding the sword, a red mole on its pale back, then his gaze moved upwards, but the figure’s face was hidden by the veiled hat.

His movements were swift and precise, his swordsmanship ruthless. Within a few moves, the assassin was forced to retreat, calling out to his men, “Attack!”

The assassins swarmed the figure.

Jiang Xian Ming’s heart sank. “Be careful, Young Master!” he shouted.

Xu He Xue’s sword pierced one assassin’s chest. He parried the other blades, the rain washing away the blood from his sword. As their blades pressed against his, he released his sword, letting it spin, then, retrieving it, sliced another assassin’s throat.

The rain couldn’t wash away the stench of blood. Jiang Xian Ming, initially worried, now watched in awe as the figure moved with effortless grace, calm and composed.

Bodies lay scattered in the alley, blood mingling with the rainwater. Only the rain could be heard now, the fighting over.

Xu He Xue’s lantern, made of glazed porcelain, remained dry. He loosened his grip on the sword, a wave of pain washing over him.

“Who… who are you?” Jiang Xian Ming asked, looking at his back.

Xu He Xue turned slightly.

Blood stained his sleeve and his usually pristine robe. He stepped over the bodies and slowly walked towards Jiang Xian Ming, his voice muffled by the wet veiled hat. “You don’t recognize me, Chief Censor, but do you remember the ‘Galloping Horse’ statue? You lied to me that night.”

Chapter 53: Treading on Grass (Part 4)

“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!” the young man nodded frantically.

“Are there other types of abacus beads at Manyu Bank?” Xu He Xue asked, picking up an abacus from the table and letting the beads fall with a soft clatter, drawing the young man’s gaze.

“Yes, but they only changed the design once, about five years ago,” the young man replied truthfully.

“Why did they change it?” Xu He Xue asked calmly.

The young man, an apprentice at the bank, had been there for five years but hadn’t had the opportunity to use the expensive abacuses, only the cheap jujube wood ones. He leaned against the railing, his voice trembling. “I heard from my master that the old beads were too heavy and difficult to manipulate, so the owner in Daizhou ordered new ones.”

“What else do you know? About the abacuses,” Ni Su asked, walking over to Xu He Xue.

The young man cautiously looked up at her, her face hidden behind the veiled hat, her voice young and feminine.

“What are you looking at?” Xu He Xue’s cold voice made him flinch. He quickly lowered his gaze, staring at the white robe. “Abacuses… let me think…”

“Experienced accountants are sensitive to the weight of the beads. They’re very particular about it. If the weight is off, it affects their speed, so the owner changed them. I also heard that the owner considers abacuses to be our livelihood. He had them inlaid with gold and jade for good luck and as a reward for skilled accountants. If they perform well, train their apprentices diligently, and retire, they receive an abacus as a gift.”

This was why he had been an apprentice at Manyu Bank for five years, hoping to earn an abacus, even though few received such a reward. Even if the abacus itself was useless, the gold and jade inlays were valuable.

Ni Su thought for a moment. “So, there’s no precedent for giving someone a single abacus bead?”

“No,” the young man shook his head. “Even damaged abacuses are stored carefully. Some have tried to steal them, but few succeed. Although the abacuses are on display, there are guards at night.”

“But the Yin Ye Si has sealed the building. There aren’t many people left. Only I’m inside tonight… the others are patrolling outside.”

Ni Su frowned. The old servant had been at the Wu residence for years. He wouldn’t have the skills of a bank accountant, nor the opportunity to obtain such an abacus bead. And they had only found one bead in his house.

The neighbors had said the old servant had a grandson, but he hadn’t been seen lately. Had someone used his grandson to threaten him? Was that why he had risked harming Wu Dai?

Had that person given him the Manyu bead? But why give him a single bead when they had given him banknotes?

“Where are the old abacuses stored?” Xu He Xue asked, leaning closer. The lantern light from the courtyard below was dim. The young man felt a chill as he approached, a coldness that seeped into his bones.

Being near him was like being near a winter storm.

“I… I know…” the young man stammered, his lips trembling.

The guards in the courtyard below paced back and forth, yawning in the long night.

“I wonder if our bank will survive…” someone said.

“They’re saying our owner is responsible for Wu Dai’s illness, based on a single abacus bead. That’s why they sealed the building,” another said.

“People steal abacus beads all the time. Some get caught, some don’t. How can they accuse our owner based on that?”

“They haven’t convicted him yet. The fact that we’re still here tonight means the Yin Ye Si doesn’t have enough evidence. Besides, our owner has powerful connections,” the leader said, interrupting them impatiently. “Just do your job! Stop gossiping about the owner!”

Ni Su and Xu He Xue followed the young man to the third floor, unnoticed. The third floor was sparsely furnished. A locked storeroom stood at the end of a long corridor. The young man’s face was troubled. “I don’t have the key. It’s with Second Manager, and he’s being held at the Yin Ye Si.”

The storeroom’s lock was more elaborate than ordinary locks.

But a flash of cold light, a shower of shimmering dust, and the lock fell to the ground.

The blade pressed against the young man’s neck again, and Ni Su caught the falling lock.

“Go inside,” Xu He Xue said.

The young man, his face pale, opened the storeroom door and stumbled inside.

The room was dark, but a faint light followed him. He didn’t dare turn around, only pointing towards a cabinet. “They’re in there.”

The locks on the cabinets, designed to protect the abacuses, were even more intricate. Ni Su saw the shimmering dust, but the young man didn’t seem to notice.

She looked down at the faint, white shadow on the floor and listened to the locks click open, effortlessly.

But she knew his effortless actions came at a price.

The young man, assuming the blade at his throat was exceptionally sharp, trembled with fear, carefully retrieving an abacus from the cabinet.

“This… this is the old design,” he said, holding out a worn abacus, its frame and rods loose, its beads smooth and shiny from years of use.

Xu He Xue glanced at it but didn’t take it. He looked at the young man through his veiled hat. “If you’re smart, you’ll pretend you know nothing about tonight’s events. After all, we wouldn’t have found this place without you.”

“I understand! I understand!” the young man said quickly.

He wouldn’t dare tell anyone. This was a clear warning. Even if he told the manager, he would still be implicated.

He felt the blade move away from his neck and was about to sigh in relief when the hilt struck the back of his head.

He collapsed, unconscious.

Xu He Xue caught the falling abacus, then, holding the loose wooden frame, pulled it apart and retrieved a bead.

Ni Su walked closer and examined the bead in the lantern light.

It was smooth and shiny, the inscription faded, but still legible: “Manyu.”

“It’s the same as the other one,” she said.

Xu He Xue held the bead in his slender, strong fingers. “No, it’s not,” he said after a moment.

“What do you mean?” Ni Su asked, confused. “The wood, the jade ring, the inscription… they’re identical.”

Xu He Xue looked at the unconscious young man. “Remember what he said? Manyu Bank only changed their bead design once, because the old beads were too heavy.”

Ni Su nodded.

“Although this one looks the same as the one we found at the old servant’s house, the weight is different,” Xu He Xue said.

“The weight is different?” Ni Su took the bead and weighed it in her hand, but she couldn’t feel any difference. She hadn’t paid attention to the weight at the old servant’s house.

Xu He Xue took back the bead and squeezed it, the veins and bones in his hand standing out.

The bead cracked, revealing a small iron plate beneath the jade ring.

Banks exchanged banknotes for copper coins. The owner of Manyu Bank, who inlaid his abacuses with gold and jade, wouldn’t be short of iron.

“So that’s why it was heavier,” Ni Su said, picking up the thin iron plate. “The bead at the old servant’s house was a fake.”

“Which means whoever is behind this deliberately planted it. They harmed Wu Dai to draw the Yin Ye Si’s attention to Manyu Bank?”

From Du Cong’s ledger to this, everything seemed to point to Manyu Bank.

“There’s another possibility,” Xu He Xue said, picking up the lantern. “Perhaps Wu Dai wasn’t harmed at all.”

“Perhaps he orchestrated this himself, to make the Yin Ye Si investigate Manyu Bank.”

The dementia was real, the bead was fake. If Wu Dai was truly this ruthless, he must be desperate, hoping to turn the tables, or perhaps, drag someone down with him.

“That’s… impossible,” Ni Su said, stunned. She was about to ask again when Xu He Xue suddenly turned his head. “Someone’s coming,” he said.

Ni Su saw a light flicker on the railing outside the storeroom door, then heard an angry voice. “Where’s A-Ping? Why isn’t he here? Is this how he cleans while I’m at the Yin Ye Si? I told him to work harder after he broke my things, and he’s still slacking off!”

“Master, don’t be angry. He must have stepped out for a moment. You can scold him when he returns,” another voice said, fawning.

The approaching footsteps were loud. Hearing the word “Master,” Xu He Xue knew it was the manager, who had been released from the Yin Ye Si.

“Ni Su, hide,” he whispered.

Ni Su nodded, quickly hiding inside a large cabinet. “What about him?” she asked, looking at the unconscious young man.

Xu He Xue walked over to her, the gauze of his veiled hat brushing against her face as he leaned down. “Are you afraid of being in there?”

Ni Su hugged her knees and shook her head. “Hurry and close it,” she urged.

Xu He Xue closed the cabinet door, his gaze falling on the broken lock. He touched it, and shimmering dust enveloped it, restoring it to its original form. The footsteps outside grew louder. He calmly reattached the lock to the cabinet containing the abacuses, then turned to mist and carried the unconscious young man outside, silently.

The storeroom door closed, the lock hanging securely in place.

“Did they search the storeroom?” the manager asked, ascending the stairs, his face pale with exhaustion after his ordeal at the Yin Ye Si.

“Yes, they had your key. They searched everywhere,” the middle-aged man following him replied. “They even examined the abacuses.”

“It’s all because of that abacus bead! This is a disaster! I need to check!” the manager said angrily, handing the key to the other man. “Open the door.”

“Master, they also searched the storeroom. No one has been inside since the Yin Ye Si’s search. You just returned. Why are you checking again?” the man asked, opening the door.

“Our manager was murdered! Wasn’t he good to us?” the manager said, entering the storeroom and lighting the candles on the table.

“He was very good to us,” the man agreed. “But he died so suddenly.”

“Indeed…” the manager sighed, counting the copper coins stored in the storeroom. “Normally, only the manager has the key to the storeroom, but that night, on the Lantern Festival, he gave me the key. I asked him if he was returning to Daizhou to see the owner, but he said no. I was puzzled. He didn’t seem like he was going anywhere. He didn’t even have any luggage. I only saw him tuck a book into his robe…”

“He never gave you the key before when he went to Daizhou. Perhaps he was planning to retire and wanted you to take over,” the man said, his words soothing the manager’s anxieties.

“Don’t be absurd,” the manager said, waving his hand dismissively.

Inside the dark cabinet, Ni Su heard their voices, then approaching footsteps. She clutched her skirt, her heart pounding.

“Master, I’ll open these cabinets and boxes for you,” the man said, his hand reaching for the copper handle.

Ni Su held her breath.

A sliver of light revealed his rough, dark fingers.

Her heart sank. She felt a cool breeze on her face, and the cabinet seemed to shrink. She turned and saw a pair of eyes close to hers.

So close she could see the crease of his eyelids.

Xu He Xue had removed his veiled hat and placed the lantern on the floor, its warm light filling the small space.

A cry of pain came from outside. The man had slammed the cabinet door on his fingers.

Ni Su almost laughed, but a cold hand covered her mouth. She blinked, smelling the faint scent of blood.

His sleeve was stained crimson, a fresh wound on his wrist, blood dripping from it.

“Look what you’ve done! That cabinet is for storing miscellaneous items, not copper coins! The cabinets with the abacuses are locked!” the manager’s voice boomed from outside.

The other man apologized profusely.

Xu He Xue listened to their conversation, then, as he was about to remove his hand, she grasped his fingers, her warmth against his cold skin making him tremble.

He could still feel the softness of her cheek against his palm. Her unexpected touch made him clench his hand and turn to look at her.

She hadn’t removed her veiled hat, but she lifted the gauze slightly, the candlelight illuminating half her face, her dark eyes and red lips.

A strand of hair fell against her cheek.

Xu He Xue, realizing she was looking at his wound, tried to pull away, but her fingers tightened around his.

A heartbeat was a sensation of the living.

He didn’t have one.

Ni Su, for the first time, truly saw the wounds inflicted on him, like stains on freshly fallen snow.

If it were a physical injury, she could heal it. But it wasn’t.

She gently blew on his wrist, her breath like a warm breeze. Xu He Xue gasped softly, his body trembling.

Chapter 52: Treading on Grass (Part 3)

Yin Ye Si.

An old man, his white hair and beard stained with blood, hung suspended from ropes in the center of the torture chamber. His torn clothes revealed bloody wounds inflicted by the barbed whip. He trembled, his dry lips moving. “I… confess.”

“Speak,” Zhou Ting said, tossing the blood-soaked whip aside, sending droplets of reddish water splashing across the floor.

“The needles in my master’s head… I did it,” the old man said, his voice hoarse and raspy. “I had no choice. They had my grandson!”

“Who are ‘they’?” Zhou Ting asked, adjusting his wrist guard and flexing his stiff wrist.

“I don’t know…” the old man mumbled, his eyes vacant. “They found me. They promised to return my grandson and reward me handsomely.”

Zhou Ting was about to question him further when he heard hurried footsteps approaching. He turned and saw Chao Yi Song rushing down the steps towards the torture chamber.

“Commander Zhou, we searched the Wu residence and the old servant’s house again, but we only found these,” Chao Yi Song said, holding out a thick stack of banknotes.

Zhou Ting walked over. The torture chamber was dimly lit, but a nearby brazier glowed brightly. He took a banknote and glanced at it.

“And this,” Chao Yi Song said, opening his other hand to reveal an abacus bead.

Banknotes weren’t uncommon. About sixteen years ago, banks had begun issuing them as a convenient alternative to heavy copper coins. People deposited their coins and received banknotes in exchange. Now, banknotes were widely used in the marketplace.

The abacus bead in Chao Yi Song’s hand was smooth and polished, made of fine wood, its hole inlaid with a jade ring. But the inscription was faded from years of use.

Zhou Ting picked up the bead and turned to the old man. “Tell me about this.”

“One of them dropped it,” the old man gasped, struggling to breathe.

Zhou Ting examined the inscription in the firelight. “Manyu.”

He immediately thought of Manyu Bank. Although not the first bank in the Great Qi, Manyu was one of the most prominent, having expanded from Daizhou and established a near monopoly on banknote issuance in the surrounding regions.

Zhou Ting looked at the jade ring. “Only Manyu could afford such an abacus bead.”

That night, Yin Ye Si officers raided Manyu Bank, but they didn’t find the manager, who had recently returned to Yun Jing.

The next day, they searched the city, finally finding a decomposing body in the entertainment district.

“The bank clerks identified the body. They insist it’s Manager Hu Li from the Yun Jing branch,” Zhou Ting reported, his eyes bloodshot but his demeanor alert.

“The body was decomposed. How could they identify it?” Han Qing asked, putting down his teacup and snorting.

“From his clothes and belongings,” Zhou Ting replied.

“Whether he’s truly dead or not is irrelevant. He disappeared on the Lantern Festival. Even if he’s alive, he’ll be difficult to find,” Han Qing said, tapping his fingers on his knee. “The Emperor doesn’t care why Manyu Bank would target Wu Dai. He still has some fondness for Wu Dai, but only enough to spare his life. Whether he’s truly ill or not is of no concern. But today, the Emperor issued a decree ordering the Daizhou governor to question Cao Dong, the owner of Manyu Bank.”

“Zhou Ting, do you know why?”

“No, Director.”

Han Qing looked at him, a strange smile on his face. “How long has it been since you visited your family? Your father’s memorial has reached the palace. Your family must have received a letter by now.”

Zhou Ting was startled at the mention of his father. “Director, may I ask what my father’s memorial concerns?”

“Zhou Wen Zheng, the Transport Commissioner of Wanjiang, has petitioned the Emperor to nationalize banknote issuance to fund military expenditures, prohibiting private banks from issuing new banknotes and recalling all existing banknotes, establishing a government monopoly.”

Although Han Qing rarely attended court, his godfather, the Chief Eunuch, kept him informed.

“The Emperor… intends to use this to target Manyu Bank?” Zhou Ting realized.

“As you know, banditry is rampant, and although there’s a truce with Danqiu, tensions remain. We must maintain a strong army, but the military expenditures are straining the national treasury. Your father’s memorial is timely for the Emperor, but for you… it’s detrimental. You understand this, don’t you?” Han Qing said, his tone meaningful.

“I do,” Zhou Ting replied calmly.

His father’s memorial threatened the interests of officials who colluded with private banks like Manyu Bank to control banknote issuance.

His father, far away in Wanjiang, would face repercussions, and he himself might face retaliation in the capital.

“Your father doesn’t seem to care about his own safety, or even yours. Aren’t you angry with him?” Han Qing asked, curious.

“My father acted in the best interests of the nation. How can I be angry?” Zhou Ting shook his head. “Director, you know my father wanted me to become a civil official. I disobeyed him already. Now I must show him that I didn’t choose the wrong path.”

“Then be careful. Don’t let those who are angry with your father use you as a pawn,” Han Qing said, patting his shoulder.

“Yes, Director,” Zhou Ting replied.

Transport Commissioner Zhou Wen Zheng’s memorial was read aloud in court by Chief Eunuch Liang Shen Fu, causing an uproar. But the Emperor didn’t issue a decree immediately, instead asking for his officials’ opinions.

Some agreed, some opposed. The Emperor, dressed in a red robe, sat on his throne, listening silently to their arguments.

“Minister Zhang, what are your thoughts?” the Emperor finally asked, looking down at the elderly official in purple robes, his back slightly hunched, not using his cane.

Zhang Jing stepped forward and bowed. “Your Majesty, I believe nationalizing banknote issuance would benefit the nation.”

“So, you agree with Zhou Wen Zheng’s proposal?” the Emperor asked calmly.

“That’s not what I meant, Your Majesty,” Zhang Jing said, bowing his head.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then what did you mean?”

“Without sufficient reserves, it will harm the nation’s foundation,” Zhang Jing said, his voice clear and strong in the silent hall.

Meng Yun Xian’s brow twitched. He looked up and saw the Emperor’s darkening expression. He sighed inwardly. Zhang Jing’s words meant that if the government didn’t have enough copper coins to back the banknotes, excessive issuance would lead to inflation, devaluing the currency and ultimately harming the people.

The “nation’s foundation” Zhang Jing referred to was the people.

Nationalizing banknote issuance could indeed benefit the people and alleviate the military’s financial burden.

Zhang Jing wasn’t opposing the proposal, but rather advising the Emperor against excessive issuance.

Meng Yun Xian frowned. Zhang Jing, usually pragmatic, seemed intent on provoking the Emperor today.

“Such concern for the nation and its people, Minister Zhang,” the Emperor said, his voice cold despite the smile on his face.

The Emperor didn’t make a decision, but everyone knew that nationalizing banknote issuance was inevitable.

“Chong Zhi, you never bothered with your own finances. You didn’t even have an abacus at home. Why are you so concerned about financial matters now?” Meng Yun Xian asked, approaching Zhang Jing before He Tong could.

He Tong, emerging from the hall a moment later, saw the two ministers talking as they descended the steps and followed them discreetly.

“I can be careless with my own finances, but not with the nation’s,” Zhang Jing said, slowly descending the steps, holding onto the white jade railing.

“Why did you provoke the Emperor today?” Meng Yun Xian asked, puzzled by his behavior. “You’ve been reviewing officials’ performance evaluations, but without a clear plan. Now you’re concerned about finances. You must have met with the Ministry of Revenue, haven’t you? I don’t understand what you’re doing.”

“Someone has to speak the unpleasant truths, not just for the Emperor’s ears, but also for the court officials. It’s good to have a few people who dare to speak the truth. And if not for them, then for the people. Someone has to tell them what’s right and wrong.”

“As for what I’m doing…” Zhang Jing paused, his knee aching, his hand gripping the railing. “I’m doing what I came back to do.”

An honest official’s duty wasn’t just to the Emperor.

***

Manyu Bank’s Yun Jing branch, built by its Daizhou-based owner, had a distinct Daizhou style, its four-story building surrounding a central courtyard, its walls adorned with colorful paintings.

Xu He Xue ascended the stairs, holding the lantern, Ni Su following closely behind. Although the Yin Ye Si had sealed the building, guards remained, so she tried to be as quiet as possible.

The lantern light illuminated a long ebony table with several abacuses, their beads smooth and round, their holes inlaid with jade rings. Ni Su scanned them. “None of them seem to be missing any beads.”

“They wouldn’t leave damaged abacuses on display,” Xu He Xue said, flicking a bead with his finger. The bead rotated, revealing the “Manyu” inscription and a unique pattern on the other side.

“This one is different from the one we found at the old servant’s house,” Ni Su said, walking over to examine the bead. “That one only had the inscription, no pattern.”

Before Chao Yi Song had searched the old servant’s house, Ni Su and Xu He Xue had already been there, finding the stack of banknotes and the abacus bead, then leaving them in place.

“That one is an older model, from before Manyu changed their design,” Xu He Xue said, looking at the ornate abacuses. “Ni Su, banknotes didn’t exist when I was alive. Do banks value abacuses highly?”

“Since they exchange banknotes for copper coins, accurate accounting is crucial. But smaller banks can’t afford such elaborate abacuses,” Ni Su said, flicking the beads playfully. “I heard Manyu Bank has a tradition of inlaying their abacus beads with gold and jade, a good luck charm for their business.”

“So, even damaged abacuses would be stored carefully,” Xu He Xue said, looking up at a wall where an abacus hung, its beads intricately carved from fruit pits, though lacking gold or jade inlays.

“Then let’s search,” Ni Su said, carefully opening a cabinet door, the faint creak making her pause and look around. Only she could see by the lantern light in the dim room.

Xu He Xue, a rare smile touching his lips beneath the veiled hat, stopped her from opening the cabinet further.

Ni Su looked up at him, puzzled, the double layers of gauze obscuring his face.

“Searching like this will take all night,” he whispered.

“Then what do we do?” she whispered back.

They stood there, their shadows almost merging, her fingers still on the copper handle, her knuckles red from gripping it. Xu He Xue gently removed her hand.

Ni Su’s back stiffened. She couldn’t see his face, and he didn’t breathe, but she heard her own quickening breath, her gaze fixed on her reddened knuckles.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, also looking at her hand.

Ni Su mumbled a reply.

Xu He Xue, not having heard her, leaned closer. Ni Su, looking at his ear, whispered, “No, it doesn’t hurt.”

He hadn’t expected her to be so close.

Her warm breath against his ear made him tremble. He straightened up. “We should find someone,” he said softly.

The young man who had been dozing by the stairs was now snoring loudly. Xu He Xue turned to mist, drifted downstairs, and, grabbing the young man by his collar, carried him upstairs.

The young man woke up, startled. Ni Su, afraid he would scream, grabbed something from a nearby porcelain jar.

Xu He Xue held his sword against the young man’s throat. The cold blade made him tremble. He saw the veiled woman holding a wriggling turtle and closed his eyes tightly, hoping she wouldn’t put it in his mouth.

“…Put it back,” Xu He Xue said, a hint of amusement in his voice, seeing her also startled by the turtle.

Ni Su sheepishly returned the turtle to the jar.

Xu He Xue turned to the terrified young man. “Answer my questions. If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

Chapter 51: Treading on Grass (Part 2)

As soon as Ni Su and Xu He Xue left the Wu residence, Zhou Ting and his men surrounded it.

“Master, Master… he’s lost his mind! Why are you doing this to him?!” the old servant cried, restrained by two officers, watching helplessly as Wu Dai was carried away.

“The Yin Ye Si is acting under imperial decree. No one can interfere!” Chao Yi Song shouted, his hand on his sword hilt, then followed Zhou Ting.

“Commander Zhou,” Chao Yi Song said, nudging him, “it’s quite a fall from grace for such a high-ranking official. The Emperor favored the Wu family for so long… and now this…”

He remembered Wu Dai’s demented state. “Such a proud and dignified man, reduced to this in a single night.”

Zhou Ting, his expression unreadable, said, “Take my token and summon an imperial physician. If Wu Dai’s illness can be treated, it must be treated. Otherwise, the Director can’t interrogate him.”

“Yes, sir…” Chao Yi Song said, stepping out of the Wu residence and noticing a figure in the crowd.

“Hey, isn’t that Miss Ni?” he muttered.

Zhou Ting paused, following his gaze. The young woman in a light green dress, her hair styled in a triple bun, her face no longer as pale as before, perhaps flushed from the sunlight, her eyes clear and bright.

“Commander Zhou,” Ni Su said, bowing as he approached.

“Miss Ni, what are you doing here?”

“Like them, I’m here to watch,” she said, tilting her chin towards the dispersing crowd.

Zhou Ting followed her gaze, then heard her say, “Commander Zhou, have you considered that Wu Dai’s dementia might not be accidental?”

Zhou Ting’s eyes narrowed. “Miss Ni, do you know what you’re saying?”

“Have you forgotten? I’m also a physician,” Ni Su said, unfazed by his sudden coldness. “I found these on the ground just now, while Wu Dai was being carried out. I was waiting to give them to you.”

She held out two silver needles.

“What are these?” Zhou Ting asked, taking the needles.

“Acupuncture needles. I saw them fall from Wu Dai’s hair,” Ni Su said. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s how he became ill. Improper acupuncture caused blood stasis in his brain.”

Zhou Ting’s expression turned serious. He held the needles and bowed to Ni Su. “Thank you, Miss Ni. I understand.”

“Commander Zhou, I’m also skilled in acupuncture, a secret technique of the Ni family. If you trust me, I can treat Wu Dai,” Ni Su said, finally revealing her intention.

“Absolutely not,” Zhou Ting said immediately, shaking his head.

“Why?” Ni Su was stunned by his refusal.

“Miss Ni, Wu Dai is Wu Ji Kang’s father. Although he didn’t directly kill your brother, he used his influence to protect his son,” Zhou Ting paused, looking at her. “Don’t you hate him? Why would you want to treat him?”

“I do hate Wu Dai, and I’m not repaying evil with kindness.”

“Then why get involved?” Zhou Ting asked, his tone firm. “You’re a woman. You know what the Yin Ye Si’s prison is like. And there’s a difference between men and women. You shouldn’t…”

“Commander Zhou, are you also going to restrict me because of my gender?” Ni Su interrupted sharply.

Zhou Ting fell silent, meeting her gaze, her anger clear in her clear, bright eyes.

“You and Director Han helped me greatly in seeking justice for my brother. I offered to treat Wu Dai because I thought I could repay your kindness. That’s all,” Ni Su said, then, feeling a tug on her sleeve, added, “But since you refuse, I won’t press the matter. Excuse me.”

She bowed and turned to leave without waiting for his reply.

Zhou Ting watched her go. The crowd before the Wu residence had dispersed. Chao Yi Song approached cautiously. “Commander Zhou, should I… still summon the imperial physician?”

Zhou Ting seemed to snap out of his trance. “Yes,” he said.

“Miss Ni seems angry. But… you couldn’t have agreed,” Chao Yi Song said. He, too, believed it was a bad idea. Wu Dai was Imperial Concubine Wu’s father. What if she regained the Emperor’s favor? The Emperor had only authorized questioning, not torture. Caution was necessary. Although Ni Su came from a medical family, who knew how much she had actually learned? If something went wrong, not only would she be imprisoned, but they, the Yin Ye Si officers involved, would also be punished.

But Zhou Ting was thinking about her words: “Are you also going to restrict me because of my gender?”

He seemed to have offended her.

Rumors could be deadly, like the rumors Wu Dai had spread about him and Ni Su. To avoid further tarnishing her reputation, Zhou Ting had avoided her clinic.

Propriety dictated such caution.

But he didn’t understand why she didn’t seem to care about those rumors, why she had even dared to return to the Yin Ye Si, knowing the horrors of their prison.

Why did she involve herself in these matters?

He couldn’t understand her. She was too different, too bold. But her actions might harm her.

He didn’t understand her courage.

“Her brother’s case is closed. She shouldn’t get involved in court matters anymore,” he said, mounting his horse. “Hurry, Chao Yi Song. Don’t delay.”

The spring sun was warm and bright.

Ni Su walked through the bustling street, swinging her sleeve, the faint mist clinging to it dispersing and forming the figure of a young man.

“Why didn’t you let me treat him?” she asked.

She hadn’t found the needles outside the Wu residence. As they were leaving, after hearing Wu Dai’s ramblings, Xu He Xue had become suspicious and retrieved the needles from his hair.

Wu Dai’s dementia wasn’t accidental; it was deliberate.

Seeing the needles, Ni Su had understood.

Wu Dai still had a daughter in the palace, and the Emperor didn’t want him dead. If he died mysteriously now, it would be too obvious that something else was going on.

“You know Wu Dai’s illness was deliberately inflicted. If you treated him at the Yin Ye Si, those who harmed him could also harm you,” Xu He Xue said, stopping and removing his veiled hat. His face was pale in the sunlight. “Ni Su, I told you, lighting the candles for me, staying in Yun Jing for me, is enough. It’s more than enough.”

“You can risk your life for your brother because he’s your family. But I can’t let you risk yourself for me.”

“My brother is my family. It’s natural for me to do that for him. But what about you and me? Are we just strangers? Met by chance? Is that it?” Ni Su asked, looking at him.

Had he told those words to Grand Commandant Miao, or were they also meant for her?

“That’s not true,” Xu He Xue said, a flicker of emotion in his cold eyes.

“Then tell me,” Ni Su said, her lips pressed together. “Xu Zi Ling, if you don’t tell me, I can only guess. And I’m not always right.”

Spring sunlight warmed her shoulders, but Xu He Xue felt nothing. He looked at her, her words making his heart ache.

“I’m bound to you,” he said, the spring breeze rustling his white robes. “You summoned me, you gave me shelter. You can ask me to do anything, but I shouldn’t ask anything of you.”

“You have your aspirations. I have no doubt you’ll achieve them. But my burden is too heavy. I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

He used the word “bound,” not just referring to the restriction that kept him near her, but also implying a deeper connection.

“But what will you do alone?” Ni Su asked. The more he tried to distance himself, the more she felt his loneliness. “That’s not how it works. Giving and receiving should be mutual. You helped me, so I want to help you. I can light candles for you, I can do many things for you. Just… trust me.”

He stepped back, but she stepped forward.

It was March, the willow branches new and green. Xu He Xue looked up at the swaying branches. “Of course I trust you. But Ni Su, you should live your life, fulfill your aspirations, finish that medical text.”

The mortal realm had been cruel to him.

But now, in this vibrant spring, he felt that being alive could be a good thing, at least for her.

Ni Su was almost speechless. People passed by, glancing at her, unaware of what she was looking at, why she was standing there, transfixed.

She whispered something, her voice barely audible.

“What?” Xu He Xue leaned closer, not having heard her.

Ni Su looked at his profile, his jawline sharp and defined. “Do you really think I can do it?” she asked again.

“Mmm,” Xu He Xue said, his clear, cold eyes meeting hers. “You can do it.”

He straightened up.

Even in the sunlight, he seemed distant, like mist.

Ni Su looked at him, her heart pounding, her breath catching in her throat.

No one, besides her brother, had ever expressed such unwavering faith in her.

He didn’t speak of propriety or gender roles, only telling her that aspirations weren’t limited by gender.

He didn’t tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, only that she could achieve anything she set her mind to.

Ni Su suddenly looked down, the white veil of his hat fluttering in the wind, and remembered Wu Dai’s ramblings.

“Ni Su?” he suddenly called.

“Huh?” she looked up, meeting his gaze, her face flushing.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing… let’s go home.”