Seeing that Chu Linlang still treated him with courtesy, Situ Sheng lowered his gaze and said slowly: “Besides, I too must return to the city. It is just the same road—perhaps I might ask Madam about the recent affairs in Lianzhou.”
Chu Linlang understood. He wished to speak with her about the old matter of his injury. Glancing back at the servants and maids accompanying her, she realized it was not truly private, but after some thought, she finally nodded in agreement.
The journey back was smooth enough until just before entering the city, when the sky suddenly darkened, and heavy rain poured down.
As they passed a roadside tea stall, Situ Sheng dismounted and invited Chu Linlang to join him in sheltering from the rain and quenching their thirst. They sat together beneath the tea shed, while Xia He and the other attendants idled at a neighboring table, cracking melon seeds and chatting.
Pouring tea, Situ Sheng raised his eyes to the somewhat uneasy Madam Chu and said softly: “Madam seems to have something she wishes to ask me.”
Chu Linlang did not conceal it. Biting her lip, she lowered her voice: “May I ask, my lord… how did you come to be injured that time?”
Situ Sheng handed her the cup steadily, looked at her, and asked in a low tone: “What Madam truly wishes to know is whether the recent murders are connected to me, is it not?”
The rain roared outside, but he showed no concern that those at the other table might overhear.
Chu Linlang quickly whispered back: “Not at all. If my lord truly had killed someone, how could I still be alive today? Even with your arm wounded, you could have slain a man or two, and that desolate countryside was full of places fit for burying corpses!”
Situ Sheng listened to her tactful words and merely smiled, offering no reply.
Chu Linlang took his silence for assent and hurried to heap praise upon him: “I never believed my lord to be a murderer. Otherwise, how could I have kept your secret until now? And even if you had committed some offense, I would still do my utmost to support you. After all, my husband and you both serve under His Highness the Sixth Prince—colleagues share bonds as enduring as mountains and rivers…”
Situ Sheng had little patience for her insincere flattery. At last, he explained, “I had gone to inquire into some old case records. By misfortune, I stumbled upon someone committing murder. I arrived a step too late, though I managed to save the victim. My arm was injured, and just then, some household retainers rushed in and saw me. To avoid misunderstanding and a quarrel in court, I fled.”
Chu Linlang listened silently. His words matched what Zhou Sui’an had learned at the time. Yet, her thoughts stirred. If he spoke the truth, why had he refused to return to the city immediately? Was it because the wound on his arm could not be explained? Or did he already know that men were waiting at the city gates to arrest him?
The more she thought, the more uneasy she became. When she had met Situ Sheng, it was just past noon. Even if he had lingered at the carpenter’s shop, he should have returned before sunset. But she had heard gossip from the Zhou household maids—that the city gates had been placed under guard just after midday, ready to seize the killer.
Ordinarily, when a murder occurred in a county, the local authorities would investigate first, then report to the prefecture. Even at the fastest pace, it would take a full day. Yet this time, for the killing of a retired official, within less than an hour, the prefectural gates were sealed, soldiers dispatched from the barracks to search. It was as though someone had foreseen the crime, laying the net in advance, waiting for the prey to step into the trap!
Realizing this, Chu Linlang drew a sharp breath, raising her eyes to the young man before her, suspecting he had stirred some hornet’s nest and been ensnared in a plot. And how strange—those who had died were all names from the roster she had given him. Was it a mere coincidence? Or had his inquiries brought ruin upon them?
Situ Sheng watched her expression without a flicker. The rain beat upon the tea shed’s tiles, streaming down in heavy lines. The damp air clung to her face, but he knew it was cold sweat. She had realized the strangeness of that day. Whether she now regretted helping him, he could not tell. Had he returned to the city with her then, the Chu family would surely have been implicated, branded as harborers of a murderer.At that time, would her self-righteous husband have abandoned his career to protect her?
Thinking this, Situ Sheng raised his cup, sipped lightly, and suddenly asked: “…Lord Zhou has taken a concubine?”
“What?” Chu Linlang, still lost in the storm of blood and conspiracy, was jolted back to herself, startled that Situ Sheng would ask such a thing.
Such questions were the province of gossiping ladies like Madam He. That a refined gentleman like Situ Sheng would stoop to such idle chatter—she could hardly believe it.
Chu Linlang steadied herself, lowered her head, and dabbed at her lips with a handkerchief. Smiling as though nothing had happened, she said:
“Yes, that’s right. Why? Does Lord Situ mean to send a red envelope?”
The man opposite lowered his eyes, his tone faint—whether praise or mockery was unclear: “They say Madam Zhou is like a River East lioness, her jealousy enough to drown a man. It seems that is not the case…”
Chu Linlang forced a laugh or two, replying without much conviction: “Don’t listen to idle gossip. Sui’an has always been master of the household.”
Situ Sheng rose, looking down at her from above, and said coolly, “Indeed, the rumor is false. Madam Chu, you are most virtuous, ever considerate of Lord Zhou. Your household will surely be harmonious, wives and concubines in accord, branches flourishing, sons and grandsons filling the halls…”
Chu Linlang stared at him in disbelief, finally realizing he was mocking her for being barren—for even if the Zhou family were blessed with descendants, what would it matter to her, an outsider unable to bear children?
The insult was sharp and cold, ridiculing her supposed virtue while hinting she was drowning in jealousy. She thought bitterly: she held his secret in her hands—had she not forced him to kneel and call her “mother,” she was already giving him face. And yet he dared to sneer at her!
Furious, Chu Linlang mimicked his aloof hauteur, raising her brows, “Domestic harmony is not something a bachelor can comprehend. If Lord Situ envies it, he should marry early and take concubines. Otherwise, people might whisper behind your back—that you shun women, that you suffer from some hidden ailment…”
Seeing her drop the mask of gentleness and bare her fangs, Situ Sheng slowly smiled—but his eyes held no mirth. His brows arched, and he replied rudely: “Whether I have an ailment or not… I fear Madam will never have the chance to know!”
Thunder cracked across the sky. Chu Linlang felt as though she had swallowed a wad of paper, choking for breath. Was she being crudely teased? How outrageous—that a royal tutor of the Sixth Prince would dare utter such lewd words to a married woman!
Having indulged his tongue, Situ Sheng seemed to realize his impropriety. Before she could retort, he rose first to check if the rain had eased.
Chu Linlang was left breathless with indignation. Who cared to know about him? Did he think himself made of gold bars? She was about to chase after him with more words when her gaze fell upon his broad back—and she froze. When he had dismounted earlier, his back had been soaked. Now his spring robe clung tightly to his strong frame, the wet white cloth thin as paper, faintly revealing a crimson birthmark in the shape of the character “eight.” That birthmark… it looked so familiar. She had seen it before, on someone else.
At that moment, Situ Sheng turned his head and caught her dazed stare. Their eyes met—she did not look away, lost in thought.
Before she could probe further, a servant handed him a dry cloak. He draped it over his shoulders, covering the mark. He seemed unaware of what had been revealed. Seeing the rain lighten, he spoke gently, “Madam Chu, you may return to the carriage now.”
His mood shifted swiftly, as though the man who had just mocked her cruelly was someone else entirely.
Chu Linlang, too troubled to argue further, boarded the carriage heavy-hearted. Seated inside, she could not resist lifting the curtain to steal a glance at the man riding ahead.
Situ Sheng was too striking—tall, handsome, elegant in bearing, unforgettable at a glance. Yet if his frame were slimmer, his muscles less defined, and his eyes more fierce in their glare. He would resemble someone from her fading memories.
Two men who should have had nothing in common were suddenly linked by that unique “eight”-shaped birthmark.
Chu Linlang gazed at him in a trance. When he turned back unexpectedly, about to meet her eyes, she hastily dropped the curtain. Once the connection was made, his familiar features overlapped with those of a boy she had long forgotten. The memory surged up, hot and vivid.
Could it be that he was her old neighbor, that wild, half-mad boy? But what was his surname again? Ah, yes, Wen. She had nicknamed him “Plague-born”—never anything as rare as Situ!
And yet, Situ Sheng was the Sixth Prince’s tutor. His background had been thoroughly investigated before he entered the palace. He—Situ Sheng—was said to be from Long County in the northern city, far from Jiangkou.
Zhou Sui’an had told her that Situ claimed his family was poor, raised by a widowed mother who washed clothes to support him, and that she had only recently passed away.
But that madwoman of Wen’s had died long ago. If he truly were her old acquaintance, then he must have concealed his past, even changed his name and lineage.
That birthmark was too distinctive. Chu Linlang was certain she could not be mistaken. She had not shared much kindness with Wen in childhood. She even suspected that Situ Sheng had recognized her from the start, which was why he kept troubling her after their reunion.
Remembering how that boy once hurled stones with vicious fury, Chu Linlang shivered. When she returned home, she found herself unable to eat. She asked Xia He to bring her freshly brewed osmanthus wine, and drank two full bowls.
Dongxue, seeing Xia He drink so quickly, hurried to bring fruit to steady her. Osmanthus wine was sweet, but too much could intoxicate—especially the way her mistress drank it.
Setting down her cup, Chu Linlang suddenly asked Xia He: “Hey… do you still remember that madwoman who lived next door to us in Jiangkou?”