The night was deep and still, candlelight flickering.
Song Langyu sat behind the writing desk, his expression grave.
Wen Jiao stepped forward, and a faint, subtle fragrance of honey drifted through the air.
Her appearance was sweet and innocent as she said in a honeyed voice, "Cousin is so careless. All three of them are beautiful and talented, but most importantly… their family backgrounds are humble, yet each has 'married above her station.'" All this information Wen Jiao had gleaned from Madam Wu.
Song Langyu sank into thought. His profile was handsome and striking, his sword-like brows slightly furrowed, as if weighing Wen Jiao's words.
"These women seem to have been selected. Without someone guiding them, why would they all happen to go to Quesi Temple to pray for marriage matches? And they are all daughters of officials—rarely seen in public before marriage. How would Miaoshan know of their looks and character? Between these women and Miaoshan, there must be someone acting as 'matchmaker.'"
Wen Jiao spoke with sparkling enthusiasm, her eyes limpid and bright.
In Miaoshan's secret chamber were stored the belongings of over seventy women. Ten of them had not married capital officials, but wealthy merchants instead, and had left the capital soon after their weddings.
The remaining sixty had married officials in the capital. Seventeen of them were already dead—seven by their own hanging, ten by poison or drowning. Because these deaths had been spread across a decade, they had not drawn the attention of the authorities.
Now only forty-three remained. Song Langyu had investigated each of their backgrounds in detail, and indeed, as Wen Jiao had said, they had all "married above their station." He had been so focused on finding the connection between these women and Miaoshan that he had overlooked other commonalities.
These forty-three were all wives of officials. Without an imperial decree, the Court of Judicial Review and the Ministry of Justice could not summon or interrogate them. Extracting information from them would not be easy.
"Those officials' wives would rather die than keep their secrets. If you dragged them into the Court of Judicial Review for questioning, they'd likely kill themselves before even crossing the threshold," Wen Jiao said, hitting the crux of the matter. Then she gave a sly smile. "Actually, I have someone far more suitable in mind."
"Who?"
"Zhong Hui."
The next day, Wen Jiao sent Zhong Hui an invitation, asking to meet at the First Grade Teahouse.
When the woman arrived, Wen Jiao warmly took her hand and sat her down, saying, "I had wanted to invite you to my home some days ago, but I fell ill and feared I might pass the sickness on to you, so I delayed. Please don't be angry with me, sister."
Zhong Hui had been smitten ever since she caught a single glimpse of Song Langyu three years ago. Knowing that Wen Jiao was his cousin, she naturally wanted to leave a good impression, so she smiled faintly and asked, "Are you fully recovered now?"
"Much better, it's just… just…" Wen Jiao's eyes reddened and her voice choked with sobs.
Startled, Zhong Hui gripped her shoulder and asked, "What's wrong, Sister Wen? Have you run into some trouble?"
Song Langyu was separated from them only by a paper-covered wall, and he could hear every word clearly.
But unless Wen Jiao provoked Zhong Hui, the woman would likely refuse to speak the truth. So Wen Jiao clasped Zhong Hui's hand and said in a pitiful, mournful tone, "Sister Zhong, I know speaking of such things with you is overstepping our acquaintance, but I truly have no one to confide in. I… I admire Cousin, yet I know my station is lowly—I am but mud beneath his feet. And so my heart is full of bitterness."
Song Langyu on the other side of the wall: "…"
The lovely, delicate young woman wept softly, the very picture of one hopelessly ensnared in love.
Zhong Hui was completely stunned. Though she prided herself on her talents, her looks were far inferior to Wen Jiao's, and she couldn't help but feel inferior.
If Wen Jiao were to compete with her for Song Langyu, what chance would she possibly have?
Zhong Hui's heart churned with panic and jealousy, and irritation surged within her. She abruptly withdrew her hand and said coldly, "Young Master Song is of noble status—a dragon among men. Miss Wen's fanciful thoughts are truly improper, and it's hardly appropriate for you to speak of such things with me."
But Wen Jiao seemed not to have heard her words. With reddened eyes, she said, "I have no family or friends in the capital. I think of him day and night, and the torment is unbearable. Sister Zhong, do you know where one might pray for a good match with particular efficacy? I'd gladly offer more incense money."
"How would I know where to pray for a marriage match?" Zhong Hui's tone was harsh, but her mind turned, and she suppressed her anger, softening her expression as she advised Wen Jiao, "The gap between you and Young Master Song is truly too vast. You should abandon this notion early on."
"I've heard there's a place outside the city called Qiaodu Temple where prayers for marriage are especially efficacious. Sister, do you know where it is? Would you like to come with me—"
"You're not allowed to go!" Zhong Hui nearly screamed, cutting off Wen Jiao's words.
After Miaoshan and the others had been captured, Song Langyu had ordered the news sealed, so Zhong Hui knew nothing of what had happened at Qiaodu Temple. She had gone there twice in recent days, but the temple gates had been closed both times, and she had assumed the abbess was in seclusion. Now hearing that Wen Jiao intended to go, her heart was thrown into chaos—she feared that Wen Jiao might obtain Qiaodu Temple's secret methods and win Song Langyu's favor first. What would she do then?!
Wen Jiao stopped her tears and looked straight at Zhong Hui, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she asked, "Sister Zhong, have you been to Qiaodu Temple before? Whose affection were you praying for?"
"I… I've never been! Don't you spout nonsense!"
"Did Miaoshan tell you to first befriend my cousin? Then to frequent the Duke's residence often, so you could meet and spend time with my eldest cousin?" Wen Jiao let out a light scoff. "What's the matter? Sister Zhong received her guidance, and now you won't allow me to go?"
Zhong Hui hadn't expected Wen Jiao to know all of this. Flustered, she hastily denied it: "I don't know what you're talking about! Don't you ruin my reputation!"
"What shameful secret does Sister have that Miaoshan came to know?" Wen Jiao asked with a sweet smile.
A flicker of confusion passed over Zhong Hui's face, but she quickly denied it again: "I don't know what you're saying."
Though Zhong Hui had some talent, her appearance was ordinary, and she wasn't the most optimal choice. Miaoshan had merely been reluctant to let go of a fish already on the hook, intending to use her to probe Song Langyu's depths—she had never truly planned to help her.
Since there was no leverage to hold against her, there was no fear of her throwing a fit or making a scene. Wen Jiao grew bolder in her speech: "Sister Zhong has set her sights on my eldest cousin, but with your humble family background, you thought to take crooked paths. That Qiaodu Temple is hardly a proper place. If anyone were to learn that you covet the heir of the Duke's residence, they'd surely laugh at your overreaching ambition!"
Zhong Hui was both terrified and humiliated. She couldn't understand how the innocent, sweet young girl from moments ago had suddenly transformed into such a venomous face. At a loss, she burst into tears from fright.
Wen Jiao's calves swung back and forth as she waited for Zhong Hui to finish crying, then said, "How about I make a trade with Sister Zhong? You answer one question for me, and I'll keep your secret safe."
Zhong Hui, frightened out of her wits, clung to these words like a lifeline and agreed eagerly.
"Who told you that Qiaodu Temple was efficacious?"
Zhong Hui didn't think the question was hard to answer. Opening her mouth, she said, "It was—"
"Bang!" The window burst open!
Two masked figures leaped into the room and raised their blades, slashing at the two of them!
Wen Jiao's scalp went numb. She grabbed Zhong Hui and ran toward the door, screaming for Song Langyu to save them.
But the door had only opened halfway when a blade slammed into it! The edge of the knife nearly grazed Wen Jiao's nose!
Zhong Hui shrieked in terror. Wen Jiao's legs went weak, but she gritted her teeth and pulled the door open. She could feel the assassin's blade closing in behind her and, mustering every ounce of strength she had, dragged Zhong Hui out of the room.
A sharp whoosh of a blade cutting through air came from behind her head. There was no time to dodge. At the critical moment, Song Langyu hurled a wooden chair, knocking the assassin's knife out of his hand.
Wen Jiao hastily pulled Zhong Hui behind him, while Song Langyu's two guards engaged the assassin in combat.
"You two, go inside and hide." Song Langyu stood at the door with a stern expression.
Wen Jiao threw her arms around Song Langyu's waist, crying, "Cousin, I'm scared! What if there are more assassins?!"
The stairwell was blocked—they couldn't get down at all. If another assassin came through the window, they would indeed be in danger.
Song Langyu pried Wen Jiao's hands away and shielded both women behind him.
The assassin was agile and had gained the upper hand several times. Zhong Hui had collapsed to the floor in terror, and Wen Jiao stood pale-faced, gripping the door for support. As the situation grew tense, a dark figure suddenly swept in on the wind, kicking one of the assassins square in the chest. The assassin slammed heavily into the wall, spat blood, and passed out.
The remaining two guards joined forces against the last one. The assassin was hard-pressed on both sides and quickly lost ground—in a moment of carelessness, his sword was knocked from his hand.
"Take him back to the Court of Judicial Review and keep him under guard." Song Langyu ordered his guards, then clasped his hands in greeting to the newcomer. "Thank you, Lord Shen, for your assistance."
The one who had kicked the assassin was none other than Shen Xiao.
He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe, casually accepting Song Langyu's bow of gratitude. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Is this related to the Miaoshan case?"
Song Langyu was not at liberty to disclose details, but he did not deny it either.
"Stubborn stick-in-the-mud." Shen Xiao cursed, stepped forward, and stared at Song Langyu. "Have you gotten to the bottom of the Lady Feng case? Has that old nun Miaoshan confessed?"
After Lady Feng had taken poison and ended her own life, Xiao Sheng—who had lost his beloved wife—had fallen apart, drowning himself in drink day and night.
Shen Xiao had gone to see him last night. He had cursed at him, even hit him, but Xiao Sheng remained completely unchanged.
Shen Xiao's expression was hostile, but Song Langyu remained as calm as still water. He only said, "The case is still under investigation."
Shen Xiao, furious, grabbed Song Langyu by the lapels and snarled, "You were the one who insisted I hand over Miaoshan! It's been days now, and still nothing! If you don't have the skill, give her back to me—I have plenty of ways to make her talk!"
Song Langyu brushed his hand away and was about to speak when hurried footsteps—thud, thud, thud—sounded from downstairs. It was someone from the Ministry of Justice. He stepped forward and bowed, speaking rapidly: "Just as you predicted, Vice Minister, assassins did strike at the homes of several officials, attempting to silence them. All the assassins have now been apprehended!"
Since whoever was behind this could hire arsonists, they could certainly hire killers to silence witnesses. Song Langyu had pulled skilled men from both the Ministry of Justice and the Court of Judicial Review, assigning them to secretly protect the officials' families—a ploy to lure the snake out of its hole.
"Any casualties?"
"A few ladies were frightened, and several of our men sustained minor injuries."
Song Langyu looked at Zhong Hui, who was still collapsed on the floor, and said, "Take her back to the Court of Judicial Review as well."
He then turned to Wen Jiao: "I still have matters to attend to. You go back to the residence first."
Wen Jiao nodded obediently with red-rimmed eyes, followed Song Langyu downstairs, and boarded the carriage of the Duke of Zhenguo's household.
The carriage left the main street, and Wen Jiao called out to the coachman outside, "Uncle Wang, hurry up."
Her answer was a dull thud. She reached out to lift the carriage curtain, but it swayed, and a figure slipped inside. Before her cry could escape her lips, a rough, powerful hand clamped over her mouth.
Terror filled her face as she struggled desperately, but the man's arm was as if forged from iron—no matter how she fought, he did not budge.
"Little cousin, don't be afraid, it's me." In the flickering light and shadow, Shen Xiao's hawk-like eyes blazed with a fearsome intensity.
Wen Jiao was even more afraid!