The water’s surface rippled faintly. At the bottom lay yellow plum blossoms—only the flowers, without branches. It was unlikely someone had picked them and tossed them in one by one. The blossoms were all in full bloom, as if at the end of their season, blown down by the wind.
Chun Tao also saw the flowers beneath the water and exclaimed in surprise: “There are plum blossoms in the water…”
Bo Ruoyou looked at the lotus pond before her, then glanced north toward the plum grove. “This pond is usually dry?”
Chun Tao thought for a moment. “Not always. In spring and summer, when the rains are frequent, water gathers here. By autumn and winter, it dries again. The gardeners sometimes throw lotus seeds in during the spring rains. If lucky, they bloom in summer; if not, the pond stays empty. Since no one usually comes here, it doesn’t matter much for appearances.”
Bo Ruoyou seemed to think of something and suddenly asked: “When the estate first diverted water from Huahua Stream, how were the channels built?
Back in the days of the former prince, the estate had three inner lakes. To gather water into lakes, it could not have been simple diversion—there must have been hidden channels. Chun Tao looked puzzled. “That… I don’t know. I only heard many craftsmen were employed, and it was a grand undertaking.”
Bo Ruoyou glanced once more into the pond, then turned toward the plum grove. She had come there the night before, but only stood outside. This time, she walked straight into the grove.
Elsewhere in the estate, all the plum trees were white, but here they were yellow. Between the grove and the pond stretched a wide bamboo forest. She had not seen bamboo leaves in the pond, yet yellow plum blossoms appeared there—why?
At night, the grove had seemed richly fragrant. By day, she saw a vast expanse of yellow plum trees in full bloom, a delightful sight. Now, with mid-first month bringing warmer weather, petals had begun to fall—the earliest blossoms already fading.
The guards had searched the grove the previous night. Looking now, she saw the ground marked with disorderly traces. They had said someone’s tracks remained here—the killer had lingered in this grove.
Bo Ruoyou’s heart stirred. She walked deeper into the grove. Unlike the dense bamboo forest, the plum grove was not easy to hide in. As she wandered, the fragrance clung faintly to her. Just as her thoughts tangled, she spotted a dry well in the distance. It was the same abandoned well the guards had mentioned the night before.
The well had been unused for years. Its stone rim had collapsed, moss and weeds covered it. At a glance, one might not even recognize it as a well. What caught Bo Ruoyou’s attention were the two plum trees beside it. Their branches stretched across the well, so that falling petals could drop directly inside.
Bo Ruoyou quickened her pace toward it. The stone rim of the well had long since collapsed, leaving only a bucket-sized opening intact. Looking down into it, all was pitch black—nothing could be seen. A damp, muddy odor drifted up, strangely familiar to Bo Ruoyou.
Chun Tao, puzzled, said: “Miss, the wells in these groves were mostly dug for watering the gardens, not for drinking or cooking. And this one has been abandoned for years.”
Bo Ruoyou nodded. The snow around the well had melted, trickling down the walls into the darkness below. She leaned closer, but still saw nothing. Growing anxious, she braced one hand on the collapsed rim—barely knee-high—and bent forward. The more she leaned, the heavier her weight pressed on the stones. Suddenly, a brick loosened, and she pitched forward—
“Miss!” Chun Tao cried out in fright, grabbing her arm.
Bo Ruoyou herself was startled, quickly pulling back a step.
Chun Tao’s face was pale. “Be careful, Miss. If you fell in, at the very least you’d break a leg!”
Bo Ruoyou froze at the words, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. Then Chun Tao added: “They say Sha Gu fell into this very well years ago.”
Bo Ruoyou’s heart lurched. Her expression tightened as she asked urgently: “Sha Gu fell into *this* dry well?”
Chun Tao nodded. “Yes, that’s why this place is so dangerous.”
Bo Ruoyou’s voice grew sharper. “You said she was down there for several days?”
Chun Tao nodded again. “Yes, I heard it was three or four days.”
“And how was she found?”
Chun Tao thought for a moment. “It seems a servant came to the grove for something and heard noises from the well. At that time, everyone knew Sha Gu was missing and assumed she had run away. The servant called others, but the well’s mouth was too narrow—ordinary men couldn’t go down. So they lowered a rope, told Sha Gu to tie herself, and then pulled her up together.”
Thunder seemed to roar in Bo Ruoyou’s ears, her heart pounding like a drum. Staring at the dark well mouth, a chilling thought suddenly rose within her.
Chun Tao, unaware of her thoughts, saw her pale face and frightened eyes, as if she had imagined something dreadful, and grew fearful herself.
“Miss, what’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?”
Bo Ruoyou did not answer. She shook her head, then slowly turned, scanning the surroundings. She was certain there must be traces near the well, though she did not know where. As she looked around aimlessly, her gaze fixed on a plum tree east of the well.
The grove was old, and even the thinnest trees were as thick as a bowl’s rim. The ones near the well, perhaps nourished by its moisture, were even sturdier. On the eastern tree, thick enough for a man to encircle with his arms, Bo Ruoyou noticed faint marks. Frowning, she walked around it.
The bark was rough, dark brown, and cracked in lines. At waist height, she found several faint abrasions. The marks were uneven—shallow on the side facing the well, deeper on the opposite side.
Bo Ruoyou’s expression shifted. Looking back at the well, her eyes held a trace of dread, as though some monster lurked within.
A breeze carried the damp odor from the well. Plum blossoms rustled in the wind, petals drifting down, swaying as they fell silently into the darkness below.
Suddenly, Bo Ruoyou turned and walked away. Chun Tao hurried after her. “Miss, where are you going?”
Bo Ruoyou had meant to head toward the ancestral hall. But at Chun Tao’s question, she changed direction—toward the front courtyard instead.
Her steps quickened, forcing Chun Tao to nearly run to keep up. “Miss, what is it?”
Bo Ruoyou shook her head without answering. The gentle grace that usually surrounded her seemed to fade, replaced by a commanding air. Chun Tao, who had always felt close to her because of her kindness, was startled by this change and dared not speak further.
Bo Ruoyou arrived at Zheng Wenyan’s study—the scene of his murder.
Because it was a crime scene, guards stood at the door. Seeing Bo Ruoyou approach, they did not stop her. She went straight inside, to the window where the air vent was. She dragged a stool over and climbed up.
She was not tall, so it was hard to see clearly. Glancing at the tea table nearby, she quickly climbed down and told Chun Tao to help move it over. Then she stepped onto the table itself, leaving Chun Tao wide-eyed in shock.
Standing on the table, Bo Ruoyou finally saw the air vent in full.
Bo Ruoyou glanced at the air vent twice, then climbed down from the table, returned the furniture to its place, and left the study courtyard, heading toward the ancestral hall. She wanted to find Huo Weilou.
…
Huo Weilou had already left the front courtyard, walking toward the site of the ancestral hall fire.
Eunuch Fu followed behind, strangely sensing that Huo Weilou was in good spirits today. He stepped closer and said: “Marquis, the Second Prince’s marriage may run into trouble, and you seem rather pleased.”
Huo Weilou frowned. “What do you mean?”
Eunuch Fu sighed. “The Second Prince is three years younger than you. Not only was he betrothed in childhood, but last year His Majesty decreed his marriage. If this case is resolved without major upheaval, he will wed in March. Though you don’t say it aloud, I think you’re secretly jealous.”
Huo Weilou: “…”
Eunuch Fu lowered his voice, muttering: “His Majesty has tried to grant you a marriage many times, but you always refused. You’re not young anymore, yet you have no one at your side. Do you even know what people say about you outside?”
Huo Weilou’s patience snapped; he halted mid-step. But before he could turn, Eunuch Fu began slapping his own mouth. “Ah! Look at this old fool’s tongue, always spouting nonsense. Marquis serves the nation and the people—what is marriage compared to that? Truly, no woman in the world could match you.”
Huo Weilou shot him a sharp glance, then continued walking. Eunuch Fu chuckled and followed. “Just a few jokes, my lord. I feel you’re in good spirits today. Perhaps we’ll solve this case in one stroke.”
Huo Weilou raised a brow. Him, in good spirits? When had that ever been?
Eunuch Fu had served him for years and knew his thoughts well. “I noticed it when I entered the room earlier. But Miss Bo seemed nervous. Even after all these days, she’s still afraid of you.”
Afraid of him? Huo Weilou gave a short laugh. She was not afraid of him.
In that instant, he recalled Bo Ruoyou’s expression when she said she wanted to repay him. She truly believed that diligently investigating the case was her way of repaying him.
Huo Weilou inwardly gave a wry smile. If everyone thought as she did, why would he need to wield thunderous authority in the court? He could simply shower favors upon the officials. Truly, she was still naïve and innocent. Though he thought this, he did not realize his own expression had softened slightly.
Eunuch Fu continued: “It’s a pity, really. Miss Bo is a woman, yet she intends to be a coroner all her life. If she persists, marriage will be difficult…”
A coroner’s status was low, always dealing with the dead. What ordinary family would want such a bride?
But Huo Weilou focused on the earlier words: “When did she say she would be a coroner for life?”
Eunuch Fu replied:”On the day Third Master Zheng died. I accompanied her to examine Second Master’s corpse. Along the way, I asked casually. She said she doesn’t believe in Buddha or Dao. Since she has the skills of a coroner, she trusts only the knife in her hand. Once this case is solved, she intends to continue as a coroner.”
Another question rose in Huo Weilou’s heart. He had seen generals who fought for decades, officials who worked tirelessly for the people. They were loyal, righteous, selfless—but even they had personal desires. Bo Ruoyou, a young woman, intelligent and refined, had chosen the hardest profession. If she truly sought nothing, then she was a saint indeed.
“Did she say anything else?”
Huo Weilou asked again. Eunuch Fu shook his head. “No. I thought, since we’ll soon go to Luozhou, I didn’t ask further. But I do worry for her. Perhaps she hasn’t thought it through.”
The world was harsh for women. If she insisted on being a coroner, it would be hard to find a good husband.
Huo Weilou fell silent, lost in thought. Soon, they arrived at the ancestral hall.
The snow had melted, leaving mud around the burned site. Officers, household guards, and servants were busy clearing. Several imperial guards supervised. Seeing Huo Weilou approach, one came forward.
Huo Weilou asked: “How goes it?”
The guard replied gravely: “Slowly. Much of the timber was burned to ash. Books and silks turned to smoke. Finding clues is very difficult.”
Huo Weilou stepped closer. The outer beams had been cleared, leaving only charred walls standing. Suddenly, his brows furrowed as he looked toward the rear of the main hall. “Did you break down the walls?”
The guard answered: “Not yet. We are still clearing debris.”
Huo Weilou’s phoenix eyes narrowed. When building a house, holes in the walls must be reserved for beams. Yet here, the holes in the broken wall were clearly lower than elsewhere. At once, Huo Weilou strode quickly to the wall. Up close, though the wall was charred black, the difference was even clearer.
Beneath the wall lay heaps of rubble and timber yet to be cleared. Huo Weilou ordered: “Clear this section first. The wall below seems to have collapsed—see if anything is buried there.”
This residence had stood for many years, and the ancestral hall’s site was chosen with utmost care. It was impossible for the ground to collapse without cause. Remembering the guards’ suspicion that the hall contained a hidden chamber, Huo Weilou’s expression grew grave.
He Cheng said: “Clearing this will take a whole day and night. We’ll have to wait.”
“Perhaps not so long.” The sudden voice made them all turn.
Bo Ruoyou hurried toward them, breathless from running. She bowed. “Marquis, sirs, this humble woman has made a discovery.”
Huo Weilou’s gaze sharpened. “What discovery?”
Bo Ruoyou swallowed before speaking: “There is most likely a hidden chamber beneath the ancestral hall. Moreover, it may connect to the estate’s old underground water channels. The disappearance of Miss Zheng years ago, and Sha Gu’s rescue despite her crippled leg, may both be linked to these channels.”
He Cheng frowned. “An underground channel? Why suddenly speak of that?”
Bo Ruoyou pressed her lips together. “Because I suspect the killer of the Old Madam, Second Master Zheng, and Third Master Zheng is hiding in that channel even now.”
The killer hiding in the underground channel?!
Until now, though there were many doubts, the murderer’s identity remained uncertain. Yet Bo Ruoyou had spoken of the killer’s hiding place—what was the basis for such a claim?
Huo Weilou’s gaze sharpened. Eunuch Fu could not help but ask: “Miss Bo, do you have proof?”
Bo Ruoyou nodded. “Yes. Please follow me—it is in the northern plum grove.”
The grove had been searched the night before, yielding nothing. Yet now Bo Ruoyou claimed evidence remained there. Huo Weilou’s expression grew grave, but he did not question her. He ordered the guards to continue clearing the collapsed site, then followed Bo Ruoyou toward the grove.
From the ancestral hall, they went directly to the plum grove, passing through a path lined with pines and cypresses. Beside the path stood an abandoned thatched hut; the grove lay just east of it.
As they walked, Bo Ruoyou explained: “I discovered water flowing in the lotus pond east of the bamboo grove. In that water were many fallen yellow plum petals. This struck me as strange. Later, in the plum grove, I found a dry well. Beside it grew plum trees, whose petals could fall directly into the well.”
He Cheng said: “That well was checked last night. It has been abandoned for years…”
“Yes. But today’s sunlight made all the difference.”
By now the sun was slanting westward, much of the snow had melted, and droplets fell from the branches overhead.
“The melting snow flowed into the well, creating water below. That water carried the petals into the lotus pond, which is how I noticed them. I learned the estate once had inner lakes, fed by water diverted from Huahua Stream. To divert water into lakes, underground channels must have been built.”
Huo Weilou asked gravely: “Even so, how can you assert the killer is hiding there?”
Bo Ruoyou replied: “Because of Sha Gu. She is low-born, an outsider, yet last night she appeared where the killer had been—at the junction of the plum grove and bamboo grove. I just learned that two years ago, she accidentally fell into the grove’s well and remained below for three or four days before being rescued. I examined her leg injury—it has healed, but the bone was once broken and bleeding. She is frail and simple-minded. In such a state, surviving three or four days in the well while still able to cry for help is truly strange.”
Bo Ruoyou paused, then said: “I believe it was because someone in the well helped her.”
Ordinarily, a frail woman falling into a well—injured or not—would hardly survive three or four days without food. Yet Sha Gu, wounded and weak, endured. The only explanation was that someone below gave her food, perhaps even treated her injuries.
Her words made He Cheng shiver. “You mean… beneath this Marquis’s estate lies an underground channel, and within it someone unseen—someone who killed the Old Madam and the Zheng brothers?”
Bo Ruoyou answered without hesitation: “Yes. Sha Gu may be slow-witted, but she is not truly mad. Saved by this person, she must have felt gratitude. Later, most likely with her help, that person was able to emerge from the channel.”
He Cheng felt his hair stand on end. Sha Gu’s fall had been two years ago. The Marquis Anqing’s estate appeared grand and noble, yet beneath its sprawling halls lived someone? Was this person human—or a ghost?
Seeing his expression, Bo Ruoyou said: “It is indeed hard to believe. I never thought along these lines before. But Sha Gu fell into the well, gravely injured, and still survived. Nanny Yu, to conceal evidence, even set fire to the ancestral hall. And the hall itself has collapsed. All this made me consider such a possibility.”
Eunuch Fu asked: “If someone truly hides beneath the estate, who is it?”
By now, the group had reached the edge of the plum grove. His question made Bo Ruoyou falter slightly. After a moment’s hesitation, she said: “It should be someone hidden by the Marquis’s household—someone never allowed to see the light of day.”
Eunuch Fu and He Cheng looked bewildered. Huo Weilou, however, understood. “You mean the household not only falsified Zheng Yunni’s birth date, but concealed something far more important?”
Bo Ruoyou nodded at once. “The Eldest Madam shows great affection for Sha Gu. At first, I could not understand why it was her, and not another. But today, recalling how the household went to such lengths to preserve the marriage between the young lady and the Second Prince, I thought—perhaps what they wished to hide was not merely an inauspicious birth date.”
“On the night Fourth Master Zheng first returned to the estate, he said: twins are already inauspicious. If born in a yin year and yin hour, then truly such a birth would bring disaster. The young lady’s birth date was already unlucky. But if Eldest Madam had given birth to twin daughters, the Old Madam would have known the marriage with the Second Prince could not be preserved. That is why she chose to keep one and hide the other. And so Eldest Madam’s madness would make sense. The Sha Gu she cherished bore some resemblance to the young lady in her features. Even the sachets she made for her daughter were identical.”
“Twin daughters…” He Cheng’s eyes trembled. “If that is true, then the Marquis’s household has committed outright treason against the throne!”
Eunuch Fu was surprised, though not as shaken as He Cheng. “To preserve wealth and honor, the older and more established the family, the more ruthless their methods. With this explanation, everything falls into place.”
He Cheng frowned. “But Sha Gu is ugly, and you said she only resembles the young lady slightly…”
Bo Ruoyou hesitated a moment. “That part I cannot yet explain. But I believe the well below must hold secrets. If we can descend and investigate, find where the killer hides, and capture them, then the truth will be clear.”
By now, they had reached the well. Huo Weilou first ordered the guards to bring ropes and tools, then asked: “Where else is there evidence?”
Bo Ruoyou quickly walked to the plum tree east of the well. “Here are marks left by ropes. Sha Gu was once pulled up with ropes. I suspect she learned this method and later used it to help the person below climb out. When the killer murdered Second Master Zheng, they descended from the Yaoyue Pavilion with ropes—using the same method.”
“Also, I went to the study where Third Master Zheng was killed. The air vent there is indeed small. But I thought, if the killer is extremely thin, they could climb through.”
Seeing how much Bo Ruoyou had quietly investigated, Eunuch Fu’s face showed admiration. “Miss Bo, your mind is truly meticulous. So many scattered details seemed unrelated, yet when connected, everything makes sense.”
Bo Ruoyou glanced down, murmuring: “It is only conjecture. I only hope I am not mistaken.”
Soon, the guards arrived with ropes and tools. But the well’s mouth was only the size of a bucket. A bucket could fit, but the guards were all broad-shouldered and could not descend.
Bo Ruoyou hesitated, then said: “Marquis, perhaps call for the short-statured guard from before, and let me go down as well. Together we could investigate.”
Bo Ruoyou was slender enough to fit, but she did not dare be reckless. That was why she suggested Zhao Wu, the guard, once suspected because of his small build and agility, who was later cleared of involvement in the murders. Since ordinary men could not enter the well, he was the best choice.
But Huo Weilou studied her briefly. “If there truly is something hidden below, even with two of you, it would not be safe.” Then he withdrew his gaze and commanded: “Break open the well.”
Bo Ruoyou hesitated to speak. Huo Weilou, while ordering the guards to break open the well, also commanded: “Go and detain Sha Gu.”
If Bo Ruoyou’s deductions were correct, then Sha Gu was likely the killer’s accomplice and should be taken into custody.
Breaking open the well took some time, but it was the safest course. If the estate truly hid another world beneath, Huo Weilou and He Cheng had to see it themselves. The guards were strong and efficient; before long, the entire well platform was dug up, leaving a large pit at the mouth.
Since the well had been for irrigation, it was not as deep as imagined. By the time the last rays of sunlight slipped below the horizon, the pit had become a great funnel shape, and already one of the guards had jumped down to the bottom.
“Marquis, below there is indeed a half-man-high underground channel.”
Bo Ruoyou clenched her fists, waiting anxiously. Hearing this, her heart finally eased.
At that moment, the guards sent to detain Sha Gu returned to the well, reporting: “Marquis, Sha Gu is missing.”
Huo Weilou frowned. The guard explained: “The last person to see her was the Eldest Madam’s maid. At noon, Eldest Madam summoned her to speak. She stayed by Eldest Madam’s side for an hour, then left. She should have returned to her own quarters, but from then on, she vanished. The officers guarding the estate’s main passages all say they never saw her.”
Huo Weilou’s brows knit tighter. He turned his gaze toward the dark mouth of the well. Sha Gu’s disappearance—was she with the killer?
“Her disappearance is not the problem. The danger is if the killer has vanished too.” With that, Huo Weilou ordered the guards to light torches and descend swiftly into the well.
He Cheng hurried to follow, but his round body slipped as soon as he stepped onto the slope. Sliding down with a “whoosh,” he landed heavily with a “thud” right in front of Huo Weilou. Grimacing in pain, he scrambled up quickly, not daring to appear clumsy again. One of the guards watching stifled a laugh with a cough.
Eunuch Fu was too old to climb down, but Bo Ruoyou stepped forward without hesitation.
Below, the guards had already scouted ahead. They returned to report. “Marquis, about ten zhang eastward, the channel runs beneath a rockery at the lake. There was once an exit, but now it is blocked. Sand and stones have collapsed, leaving only half a passage for water. The yellow plum blossoms Miss Bo saw flowed through there—their endpoint is the eastern lotus pond.”
The underground channel was built of massive stones, only half a man’s height. To walk within, one had to stoop. Huo Weilou raised his torch and indeed saw a thin stream of water trickling along the bottom, formed from melted snow seeping through the soil.
He nodded. “Search west.”
At his words, men immediately went west. The guard holding the torch said: “Marquis, please.”
But Huo Weilou did not move. He lifted his gaze upward, as though waiting for something.
The guards followed his eyes and saw Bo Ruoyou carefully descending the slope. The snow and mud were slippery, making those watching nervous. At last, she reached near the bottom and jumped down. Though she staggered, she steadied herself. Only then did Huo Weilou himself take a torch and head west.
The guard blinked. “Miss Bo, after you.”
Bo Ruoyou did not notice him, but followed ahead. She had heard the earlier report and said: “The blocked place to the east must be the lotus pond that was filled in.”
Huo Weilou gave a brief reply. Behind them, He Cheng followed, rubbing his bruised tailbone from his earlier fall.
As they moved west, everyone stooped low. The underground channel had been abandoned for years, moss covering its walls, with rats and insects darting about. Fortunately, Bo Ruoyou was with them—for any ordinary young lady, such sights would have sent her fleeing. Though spiders appeared now and then, the channel held few webs, suggesting someone often passed through.
By the light of Huo Weilou’s torch, Bo Ruoyou examined the channel carefully. The more she looked, the more traces of human presence she found. As they walked, she even saw old garments, colorless with age, soaked in the snowmelt. Meanwhile, a foul stench of rotting mud filled her nose.
The smell returned, and Bo Ruoyou’s expression grew unreadable.
The channel was pitch dark, lit only by torches. The deeper they went, the colder it became. Soon, a guard returned from ahead. “Marquis, there is an iron gate. Beyond it are several branches, but only one shows frequent passage.”
Huo Weilou ordered: “Send men to check the other paths.”
The guard obeyed. Huo Weilou, with Bo Ruoyou and He Cheng, went to the iron gate.
It was not truly a gate, but a narrow iron grille, rusted through. A large lock hung upon it, but though the lock was sealed, the chain had rusted and broken. Bo Ruoyou studied the lock and chain thoughtfully.
Huo Weilou turned to her. “What do you think?”
She instinctively straightened to answer—but forgot they were in the channel. She nearly struck her head on the stone ceiling when suddenly Huo Weilou raised his hand to block.
Bo Ruoyou felt his palm press lightly against the crown of her head. She froze, then quickly bent down, realizing. Huo Weilou withdrew his hand calmly. Stooped as he was, he stood very close to her. Bo Ruoyou tried to step back, but behind her was He Cheng. Having fallen earlier, now bent over for so long, his waist was aching, sweat pouring down his face.
Bo Ruoyou lowered her gaze. “The underground channel brings in fresh water from outside. Setting up an iron gate serves two purposes: first, to prevent anyone from sneaking into the estate through this path; second, in case of flooding, to stop debris from flowing into the inner lakes.”
She paused, then looked upward. Above was only the cold, hard stone ceiling. Yet since they had entered the channel, they had been moving westward. By now, they should be beneath the pine and cypress grove between the plum forest and the ancestral hall. “But since this gate lies within the estate, perhaps it was only meant to block weeds and water plants.”
Indeed, on the ground near the gate lay many rotted weeds and branches. Bo Ruoyou frowned as she examined them. “I wonder when this gate was locked, and when the chain broke.”
Huo Weilou said: “If as you suggest, then at least two years ago the chain was already broken.”
Only with this gate open could Sha Gu have been rescued.
Bo Ruoyou nodded silently. Huo Weilou then followed the channel where the most footprints led. The farther they went, the less snowmelt lay underfoot. Eventually, only dried mud remained, untouched for years. Soon, a gentle slope appeared ahead. At its end stood another half-open iron gate.
This gate was nearly identical to the last, with a large lock upon it. But because it stood on the slope, exposed only to dampness and not submerged, its rust was lighter. Yet the chain on this lock was also broken—this time not by corrosion, but smashed apart by force.
The chain was as thick as Bo Ruoyou’s thumb, yet someone had smashed it apart. No one knew how long it had taken to break.
With a creak, the iron gate opened. Beyond it appeared a stone staircase leading upward. The passage suddenly grew taller, enough for Huo Weilou to stand straight. Torch in hand, he ascended the steps. After barely ten steps, an underground chamber came into view.
At a glance, Bo Ruoyou saw it was a woman’s living quarters. Inside were simple furnishings. To the north stood an embroidered bed, but both the canopy and quilt were worn and old. Hidden from sunlight, the chamber was damp, and mold speckled the fabric.
Against the western wall sat a desk. On it rested a lamp, long since burned dry of oil. Bo Ruoyou examined it and felt it had not been lit for many years.
In the northwest corner was another door. After surveying the chamber, Huo Weilou went to open it. But as soon as he pushed, his steps halted. Suspicious, Bo Ruoyou followed. When she reached his side, her eyes darkened.
Beyond the door lay a collapsed ruin of bricks and stone, as though a room had suddenly caved in. Bo Ruoyou could not help but whisper: “This is…”
“Beneath the ancestral hall,” Huo Weilou said gravely. “Indeed, there was a hidden chamber here. Someone lived here. Fearing discovery, they destroyed it.”
Though the room was filled with rubble, traces of its former size remained. Furniture and books had once been inside. Bo Ruoyou stepped closer and noticed, beneath a red brick, a half-sheet of paper.
It was aged xuan paper, yellowed with time. On it was a seven-character verse; the ink had faded so much that only two lines remained. The handwriting was nearly identical to that on the golden-flecked stationery.
Bo Ruoyou quickly handed it to Huo Weilou. One glance confirmed her deductions were likely correct. He turned back to the remaining chamber. “The ancestral hall burned yesterday. You encountered the killer last night. Now this place is empty—the killer likely never returned.”
Bo Ruoyou said in a low voice:”The iron gate to the channel has already been opened. Those above may not know—or perhaps they guessed but dared not search openly, fearing you would uncover the truth of years past. So they chose to destroy everything.”
He Cheng stared at the chamber, stunned. “Xiao Bo, you truly were not mistaken. But since the killer is not here, they must be hiding above.”
Bo Ruoyou’s heart skipped. “We came here to search. The household will surely hear of it. The killer must know too. Just now, the guards reported Sha Gu is missing—could something have happened?”
Huo Weilou swept his gaze across the chamber, his eyes growing heavier. Standing beside him, Bo Ruoyou felt chills run through her body. Beyond the natural cold of the place, she could hardly imagine anyone living here. Even a prison allowed one to see daylight—this was nothing less than a tomb for the living.
As she looked around, Bo Ruoyou suddenly noticed something at the head of the bed. Stepping closer, she found two brand-new cloth tiger shoes and an old moon-rabbit lantern. The tiger shoes were toys for children; the lantern was a common sight at Mid-Autumn festivals in Jiangnan. These items had only arrived here within the past two years.
The thought made her spine prickle with cold, and sorrow welled up in her heart.
Huo Weilou glanced at her. “Come. These things will be collected later as evidence.”
Bo Ruoyou nodded, following him back along the underground channel. Everyone stooped low, silent. On the way in, she had searched eagerly for clues. On the way out, she pressed her lips together, unable to speak. The channel was cramped, but after a tea’s time of walking, the inconvenience mattered less than the endless darkness and cold—the true weight of despair.
When they passed through the first iron gate and reached the well mouth, the chill wind from outside swept in, easing the suffocating pressure. Eunuch Fu, waiting above, called down: “Well? Did you find anyone?”
Bo Ruoyou’s voice tightened. “A place where someone lived—but no one there.”
Huo Weilou stood beside her. “Up top. We’ll talk there.”
Bo Ruoyou quickly stepped aside to let him pass. With a single leap, Huo Weilou rose out of the pit. The funnel-shaped hole had not been dug to the very bottom, leaving a half-man-high ledge that Bo Ruoyou now had to climb. She hesitated, troubled.
From above, Huo Weilou extended his hand. He said nothing, but his phoenix eyes looked down at her, the meaning clear.
He had already passed his torch to another guard. Outside, night had fallen deep. Eunuch Fu stood at the top, hearing voices but unable to see. Behind her, He Cheng bent over, panting heavily from exhaustion. The other guards were still within the channel. Bo Ruoyou knew she had to climb quickly to make room—yet she had not expected Huo Weilou would reach down to pull her up.
The surrounding light was dim. In that unseen place, Huo Weilou reached out his hand to her. She hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in his. His palm was broad and rough, yet warm. Before she could react, he gripped her firmly, pulled her up in one motion, and with his other hand supported her waist—lifting her almost entirely out of the well. By the time Bo Ruoyou realized, she was already standing beside him.
Still shaken, she stepped back. “Thank you, Marquis.”
Huo Weilou released her, then suddenly asked: “And how will you repay me this time?”
The light was still dim. His voice carried a lofty tone, yet was low and resonant. Bo Ruoyou stiffened at his words. When she raised her eyes, he had already turned to walk upward. She knew he was teasing her about what she had said that morning. Pressing her lips together, she followed him up.
Eunuch Fu had been waiting for some time. Seeing Huo Weilou emerge, he hurried forward. “Was someone truly hiding below?”
Huo Weilou nodded, then asked: “Still no sign of Sha Gu?”
Eunuch Fu shook his head. “No, not found.”
Bo Ruoyou had just climbed up and heard this. Her brows furrowed tighter, unease rising in her heart. She was about to speak when a guard came running from the grove. “Marquis, Sha Gu has not been found. Moreover, the household servants report that the young lady of the Marquis’s estate is also missing!”
At these words, both Bo Ruoyou and Huo Weilou’s expressions changed.