To hold a memorial in another’s household was improper. Bo Ruoyou had considered leaving the estate, but with the entire residence under strict guard, she dared not cause trouble. After some hesitation, she wrote a short memorial text, intending to find a secluded spot where she could burn it with a few sheets of paper money—at least her heart would be at peace.
She asked Chun Tao, who told her the most secluded place in the manor was a bamboo grove in the northeast. The Marquis’s estate had many gardens, with several bamboo groves, but that one was so far away that the gardeners rarely tended it, leaving it overgrown and desolate.
Night had fallen, the cold biting. She asked the way, took a lantern, refused the embroidered-uniform guard’s company, and went alone toward the northeast. The wind lifted her skirts, the paper money rustling in her hand. Soon, she reached the bamboo grove.
Outside, wild grass grew thick. Several narrow paths led into the grove, indistinct in the dim lantern light. Within, it was pitch black, the wind sighing through the stalks, bamboo leaves rustling, shadows shifting like ghostly figures.
Alone, Bo Ruoyou felt wary. She walked toward a nearby stone stele, its surface covered in moss, the inscription half obscured. She did not bother to read it, but behind it, sheltered from the wind, she lit two sticks of incense. The memorial text was hastily written, only a few lines. She unfolded it, her brows shadowed with deep sorrow.
Years had dulled her grief, but something heavier than grief had seeped into her bones, hardening her heart like iron. With a hiss, the paper burned, falling in flames to the ground. She placed the paper money sheet by sheet into the fire. The blaze grew, casting her beautiful face in a cold, desolate light.
Around her, only the sound of wind through bamboo and leaves. She crouched by the fire, her bright eyes fixed on the flames, yet her gaze seemed to pierce beyond them, to some distant place. Her pupils trembled, her body frozen as if by the winter night. Even when the fire licked her fingertips, she felt no pain.
She did not know how long she sat there. The paper money was gone, the incense burned down to stubs. She wiped her face, tried to rise, and realized her legs were numb. She sighed, about to move slowly—when suddenly she felt something was wrong. A sensation of being watched pricked her back like needles. She narrowed her eyes, instinctively looking into the bamboo grove. And in that instant, cold sweat drenched her spine.
Among the ghostly shadows of the bamboo, a figure stood. Her heart jolted, but only for a moment. She gripped the lantern tightly and sprang to her feet. “Who’s there!”
At her shout, the figure moved. As it turned, she caught sight of its clothing—a robe styled after monastic garb.
“My mother was devoted to Buddha. That was a plain robe of crow-blue silk, embroidered with auspicious clouds, fashioned after a monk’s habit. There is only one such garment in the world…”
Bo Ruoyou recalled Zheng Wenyan’s words. Her breathing quickened sharply, and her eyes flashed cold. She stepped into the bamboo grove—if the killer was so near, she could not allow him to escape. Already, she regretted not letting the embroidered-uniform guard accompany her. But after only a few steps inside, she suddenly halted.
The grove was thick with knee-high weeds and dense purple bamboo. In mere moments, she had lost sight of the figure. Her lantern lit only a few feet ahead; to chase deeper would bring nothing but danger.
Grinding her teeth, Bo Ruoyou turned decisively and left the grove. She ignored the slippery snow underfoot, lifted her skirts, and ran toward the front courtyard—she had to find Huo Weilou. She ran too fast, the lantern jolting in her hand. Suddenly, the flame went out.
The darkness was complete. Her breath caught. The terror from moments before surged back, now deeper, gripping her heart. The rustling behind her, stirred by the wind, sounded like human breath. For an instant, she felt as though the figure was chasing her.
She dared not stop. Panic, unlike any she had ever known, clouded her sense of direction. Just as she thought disaster would strike tonight—
“Bang!”Turning a corner, she collided into someone’s arms. The sudden light and shadow left her dazed. Still in panic, her first instinct was to push the person away. But the next moment, her hand was caught firmly.
“It’s me—”
The low, commanding voice was familiar. At once, her terror dissolved. She looked up to see Huo Weilou’s phoenix eyes fixed on her, dark and steady. She froze, her nose stinging with sudden emotion.
“Marquis, I saw him—I saw the killer!”
She did not hesitate. “The killer is in the eastern bamboo grove. Please, send men to seize him at once!”
Only after blurting out these words did she begin to gasp violently, coughing from the cold air. Huo Weilou glanced behind him. The embroidered-uniform guards surged toward the grove, while he remained, watching Bo Ruoyou. He had already received their reports but had not gone out immediately.
Though Bo Ruoyou’s work pleased him, he was Marquis Wuzhao—how could his actions be swayed by a mere coroner? He had finished reading his documents, but Eunuch Fu had fretted that she might face danger alone. He himself had intended to patrol the estate that night. So he brought a few men to check—and unexpectedly, Bo Ruoyou had come crashing into his arms in such panic.
Bo Ruoyou’s fear was plain to see. She was only seventeen—no matter how unafraid of corpses, no matter how little she believed in ghosts, to come face to face with a killer who had already taken three lives was truly terrifying.
Huo Weilou held her hand. Seeing her bent over coughing, he hesitated a moment before letting go. Her face was drained of color, her palm slick with cold sweat, her delicate brows furrowed in pain. His eyes darkened. He should have come sooner.
Clutching her chest, Bo Ruoyou took a long while to catch her breath. When she straightened, her eyes shimmered with tears, yet she continued: “That man was hiding in the bamboo grove. He wore the robe that Third Master Zheng described—the one fashioned like a monk’s habit. I saw it clearly.”
Her voice was hoarse. Huo Weilou’s gaze swept her face. “Why did you not let the embroidered-uniform guard follow you?”
She froze, unsure of his meaning, then lowered her eyes and said hesitantly: “I was wrong.”
Though shaken and pitiful, she was still obedient. Even with the harshest temper, Huo Weilou could not scold her. Besides, he was not one to show anger outwardly. He said nothing more, only strode toward the bamboo grove.
Bo Ruoyou glanced at him and quickly followed. Though tall and long-legged, he did not walk fast. By the time they returned to the grove’s edge, she had regained her composure.
The embroidered-uniform guards moved through the grove with lanterns. As Huo Weilou approached, he saw the burned-out incense by the stone stele, his brows tightening slightly. At that moment, a guard came forward: “Marquis, there is no one in the grove.”
Bo Ruoyou hurried forward: “Has he escaped? I did not mistake it—there was someone there.”
The guard replied: “There are indeed traces of someone having been here, and not just one place.” He turned to her. “Miss Bo, did you pursue into the grove?”
She nodded. “Yes—”
Before she finished, Huo Weilou looked at her. “Alone, you dared to chase inside?” His tone carried disapproval.
Bo Ruoyou quickly explained: “I did not go far, only a few steps. I realized I could not match him, so I came back out.”
His brows eased slightly.
The guard added: “It is fortunate Miss Bo did not go deeper. The grove is complex. Judging from the tracks, the man was not there only briefly. Perhaps, when Miss Bo first arrived outside, he was already within.”
Bo Ruoyou felt her scalp prickle.
Huo Weilou asked again: “Can it be deduced where he fled?”
The embroidered-uniform guard shook his head. “From the traces left, the person entered and exited both east and west. To the west lies the ancestral hall; to the east, a lotus pond within the estate, nearly dried up. At present, the pond is frozen over, with no unusual signs.”
Huo Weilou’s eyes darkened. “Summon He Cheng. Gather the yamen officers. Search the entire estate thoroughly.”
The guard went to deliver the order. Just then, another guard hurried out from the western side of the grove. “Marquis, we discovered a suspicious person.”
Huo Weilou raised his brows and strode into the grove. Bo Ruoyou’s heart leaped, and she followed quickly.
The guard continued: “This person was hiding outside the bamboo grove. When we confronted him, he tried to flee, but we captured him.”
Bo Ruoyou’s pulse quickened. If this person were truly suspicious, perhaps they could trace the killer through him. With that thought, her steps quickened. But when she reached the western edge of the grove and saw who had been caught, her brows furrowed deeply. By lantern light, the scarred face before her looked especially frightening. The person captured was none other than the simple-minded woman, Sha Gu.
Author’s Note: The old iron tree keeps on sprouting.