Chapter 23: Frost Fills the Courtyard (Part 4)
“Miss Ni, are you there?” Zhou Ting, hearing voices inside, was about to knock again when the door opened. The young woman stood there in a narrow jacket and long skirt, a draped scarf hanging from her arm. Her hair was styled in a simple low bun, adorned with a single white jade hairpin.
But a silk handkerchief was wrapped around her neck.
“Miss Ni, what happened to you?” Zhou Ting asked, puzzled.
“The damp weather caused a rash,” Ni Su said, opening the door wider. Xu He Xue, who had been standing beside her, instantly dissolved into mist and vanished.
Zhou Ting, suspecting nothing, entered the back porch and accepted the tea Ni Su offered. “Miss Ni, this morning during the court session, Chief Censor Jiang Xian Ming formally reported your brother’s case to the Emperor. The Yin Ye Si now has the authority to fully investigate. Director Han has already interrogated several people. Unexpectedly, the investigation has implicated someone we didn’t anticipate.”
“Who?” Ni Su asked immediately.
“The Grand Commandant’s second son,” Zhou Ting said, watching her expression. “Chaofeng Lang Miao Yi Yang, the one who brought you out of the Yin Ye Si.”
Zhou Ting had assigned officers to watch and protect Ni Su and knew she had been staying at the Grand Commandant’s residence before moving to Nan Huai Street.
“How could it be him?” Ni Su asked incredulously.
While recuperating at the residence, she had only seen Miao Yi Yang a few times, but her impression of him was that of a gentle, timid man who relied heavily on his wife, Cai Chun Xu, for decisions.
“We’re not certain yet. Your brother and that Yanzhou scholar, He Zhong Ping, didn’t know any influential figures. Your brother wasn’t one to draw attention to himself. Why would the murderer target him in an unfamiliar city like Yun Jing? But do you remember me mentioning that He Zhong Ping had borrowed one of your brother’s essays?”
Ni Su nodded. “Of course.”
“Your brother wasn’t sociable, but He Zhong Ping was. He liked to boast after a few drinks. Having nothing else to boast about, he bragged about his friend, mentioning your brother’s poems and essays to his drinking companions.”
“Among his acquaintances was a man named Ye Shan Lin, whose family owns a bookstore. He Zhong Ping said this man knew an official’s son who collected old ghost stories. That official’s son was Miao Yi Yang, the Grand Commandant’s second son.”
“And he also participated in the winter examination but failed.”
“It can’t be him,” Ni Su shook her head. “If it were him, after failing to have me killed in the Silu Prison, I went directly to the Grand Commandant’s residence. Wouldn’t it have been easier for him to act then? Why didn’t he?”
If it were Miao Yi Yang, he would have had plenty of opportunities. But during her stay at the residence, nothing had happened.
“Perhaps it was because you were under his roof that he didn’t dare act rashly,” Zhou Ting said, holding his teacup. “But this is just Director Han’s speculation. There’s another possibility: this Chaofeng Lang might just be a pawn in the murderer’s scheme.”
“Did you take Miao Yi Yang to the Yin Ye Si?” Ni Su had been there herself, but she doubted Han Qing would be as lenient with him as he had been with her. With the Emperor’s decree, he had the authority to torture any official involved in the case.
“The Director hasn’t tortured Chaofeng Lang.”
After Zhou Ting left, Ni Su returned to Xu He Xue’s room to eat. But picking up her bowl, she thought of Cai Chun Xu and felt uneasy, her appetite gone.
“Miao Yi Yang doesn’t have the means,” Xu He Xue said, his form materializing from the mist. Having just endured the You Shi period, his voice was weak. “And Grand Commandant Miao would never risk his position for him.”
“You know Grand Commandant Miao?” Ni Su looked up at him.
Xu He Xue met her gaze, then his eyes fell on the handkerchief around her neck. He lowered his eyelashes. “Yes, I know him.”
When he was fourteen, abandoning his promising future in Yun Jing to join the army, he had served under General Miao Tian Zhao, who wasn’t yet the Grand Commandant, in the Hu Ning Army.
Fifteen years ago, during the battle in the Tan Ji Desert, Miao Tian Zhao had fought alongside him.
Although Grand Commandant was the highest military rank, it held less power than civil officials. Moreover, Grand Commandant Miao was currently on medical leave and not commanding any troops. Even if he wanted to advance his son’s career, he wouldn’t have the means to orchestrate such a scheme.
“Sister Cai mentioned that her husband is timid and reclusive. He rarely socializes. It was only after becoming a Sishi at the Ministry of Justice that he had to attend social gatherings. He prefers to stay home. Why would he attend Ye Shan Lin’s drinking party?”
The more Ni Su thought about it, the less likely it seemed.
She was worried about Cai Chun Xu, but seeing Xu He Xue’s weakened state, she didn’t know how they could go out together.
“Xu Zi Ling, if I light more candles for you, will you feel better?” Ni Su asked, getting up to fetch more candles from the cabinet.
“Thank you,” Xu He Xue said, sitting on the bed, his sleeves covering his clasped hands.
As darkness fell, Ni Su lit more candles and placed incense sticks by the window to avoid filling the room with smoke.
She turned and saw that Xu He Xue had removed his heavy cloak, wearing only his white robe. Despite his weakened state, his posture was still impeccable.
But his robe wasn’t as fine as the cloak she had burned for him at Da Zhong Temple. It was made of ordinary, even coarse, material.
Ni Su had noticed this before, but hadn’t asked.
But now, she suddenly wanted to ask, because Xu Zi Ling seemed unusually tolerant of her questions today.
“Was this robe also given to you by your old friend?” she asked.
Xu He Xue looked up, his lips parting slightly. He looked at her and replied, “It was given to me by a spirit in Youdu.”
It was difficult for him to tell her that when he first arrived in Youdu, he had been a formless, bloody mist, with no clothes and no offerings from the living, drifting aimlessly east of the River of Resentment.
Spirits often gathered in the reed beds to receive offerings from their living relatives. This coarse robe had been given to him by an elderly spirit.
Ni Su hadn’t expected this answer.
She wanted to ask, What about your own family? Didn’t anyone burn winter clothes for you, write a memorial, or weep for you on the anniversary of your death?
Then she remembered. There was someone.
But why had his old friend prepared the clothes and the memorial, only to abandon the ritual?
She couldn’t ask.
“The moon is out,” Ni Su said, looking outside.
Xu He Xue followed her gaze. The courtyard was bathed in silver moonlight. He heard her voice again. “Do you need to bathe?”
Just like that night at the inn in Qiao Zhen, Xu He Xue stood in the courtyard, looking back at the young woman watching him from the porch.
But tonight, under her gaze, he felt strangely self-conscious.
Moonlight and shimmering dust intertwined, silently cleansing the spirit of earthly impurities. The bloodstains on his sleeves vanished.
His cleanliness was otherworldly.
Ni Su watched him, thinking of the men’s clothes she had bought from the tailor shop. He was tall, but thin. Those clothes would have been better suited for a larger man.
Xu He Xue heard footsteps on the porch and turned to see Ni Su run into her room. She returned a moment later, holding something in her hand.
As she approached, he saw that it was a thin rope.
“Raise your arms,” she said, unfolding the rope.
Xu He Xue, though puzzled, obeyed, raising his arms. She stepped closer.
The rope wrapped around his waist. He could smell the faint scent of osmanthus oil in her hair. His eyelashes fluttered, and his throat moved. “Ni Su…”
“I wasn’t thoughtful. The clothes in the cabinet don’t fit you. I didn’t ask about your preferred colors or styles. I was too busy then, and the tailor’s taste is rather old-fashioned. Those clothes seem more suitable for a man in his forties or fifties,” Ni Su said, still focused on the rope.
“I don’t mind. You know, if I were still alive, I…” Xu He Xue trailed off.
Ni Su knew what he meant. He had died at nineteen, fifteen years ago. If he were still alive, he would be in his thirties now.
She looked up and smiled. “But that’s not the case. You’ll always be nineteen, forever young and beautiful.”
Young and beautiful. Xu He Xue couldn’t imagine those words applying to him, but the young woman before him spoke them with sincerity.
His clear eyes reflected the candlelight on the porch. Hearing her say “Don’t move,” he stood still, letting her measure him as she had when washing his face.
“Once I have your measurements, I’ll make you some clothes myself. Don’t worry. I’ve made clothes for my mother, and although my father passed away when I was young, I’ve made winter clothes for him. I’ll make sure they look good.” Ni Su moved behind him, using the rope to measure his arms.
“You don’t have to do that. I…” He couldn’t see her, but he could feel her touch. “I wronged you last night. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“Letting me take your measurements is repayment enough.”
“I’ll give these measurements to a tailor and have them make you some clothes, but I’ll also make one myself.”
Ni Su couldn’t understand why he, such a refined person, had died at nineteen with no one to mourn him, his clothes given to him by other spirits.
He must have been a pampered young master in life.
Putting away the rope, she said, “It’s a gift from me.”
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