The proprietress took a few steps back, clutching her sleeves tightly.
The thin silk cloth wrapped closely against her skin, giving her a small sense of security.
“You jest, Young Master. Everyone in the neighborhood knows the Satin and Brocade Pavilion is owned by Madam Lü; how could that scheming concubine ever call the shots?” Her voice trembled slightly at the end, her fingertips resting on the counter, tapping against it unconsciously.
“Then why did you not dare to show your face just now?” Fu Liao said calmly. “It is nearly closing time, and it would be rather difficult to close the shop doors with someone standing inside. Furthermore, when I called out Madam Lü twice just now, you did not react immediately.”
“I, I simply did not hear you.” The proprietress wore a troubled look. “Young Master, do not split hairs.”
Standing sideways to Fu Liao, she glanced toward the partition of brocade curtains, wanting to step forward, but ultimately pulling her feet back.
“As for Madam Lü, it is said she is solemn, stern, and always wears long, layered robes.” Fu Liao glanced down at her attire. “Seeing the proprietress in the shop today, wearing light garments, your health is likely much better than Madam Lü’s.”
“It is quite hot today, so I simply happened to shed an outer garment, and you happened to catch me at it, Young Master.” The proprietress frowned, not daring to meet Fu Liao’s eyes.
“Actually, when I first stepped inside, you were very nervous. It was not because I startled you, but because you were afraid I would recognize Madam Lü.” Fu Liao kept his composure, lowering his voice. “I harbor no malice, nor do I wish to use this as leverage. You and Madam Lü are not at daggers drawn as the rumors claim, are you?”
The proprietress’s lips quivered. “Young Master truly loves to joke, but our shop is about to close for the day. You should head back.”
Fu Liao paused. “Why do you refuse to answer my question?”
The proprietress turned her back to him.
“Are you and Madam Lü content to let Lü Chen carry a pristine reputation into posterity?” Fu Liao finally asked. “When your child asks about their father in the future, will you deceive them as well?”
The proprietress shuddered, staring at Fu Liao in disbelief. “You, you know?”
Fu Liao drew a deep breath.
He had guessed right.
He took a few steps further into the shop. “I do not know. But anyone ruthless enough to push you and Madam Lü into taking matters into your own hands is certainly no benevolent gentleman.”
The proprietress was startled, her lips opening and closing as if her throat had been seized, utterly at a loss for words.
“W, We did not…”
“Nier.”
A steady voice came from behind the brocade curtain, and its owner stepped out into view.
The newcomer was a poised and elegant woman clad in mourning garments, her steps measured and unhurried. The sleeping infant cradled in her arms softened her otherwise aloof aura.
“Sister Zishan.” Nier hurried forward to receive the baby.
Fu Liao bowed. “Madam Lü.”
“As the heir of the Mingliu Marquisate, it should be this concubine bowing to you according to protocol.” Madam Lü glanced at him. “Thank you for not waking Yu’er.”
Pondering her words, Fu Liao spoke with cautious deliberation. “It was never my intention to offend the two of you, but I genuinely need your help.”
Madam Lü had recognized his identity immediately, indicating she knew who he was, and her earlier remark about his broken protocol suggested she likely already harbored suspicions.
Madam Lü was silent for a moment before speaking. “I hear the heir is scheduled to duel the high official tomorrow. We could be considered to have helped the heir vent his frustrations; does the heir instead intend to fault us for our actions?”
“Pinning a murder charge on Prince Jing is of no consequence to him and achieves nothing in reality.” Fu Liao knew they had misunderstood his intentions. “I came here for the sake of my own life; I have no intention of meddling in unrelated matters. I heard Madam Lü intends to leave Jingzhou soon…”
“My surname is Zu,” Madam Lü gently interrupted him. “Nier’s surname is Lan.”
Fu Liao was momentarily stunned, then cupped his fists in a respectful bow.
“Madam Zu, Madam Lan, I only wish to know: has Lü Chen arranged or hidden anything near Pingguan Pass?”
Xi Lingjian’s tacit approval of their actions meant he must have long known Lü Chen’s true character. He cared nothing for a sullied reputation and disdained to offer explanations, but since he had never intended for Lü Chen to die, he must have laid plans regarding Lü Chen afterward.
The only recent affair known to all of the capital, and one Xi Lingjian could easily manipulate, was their upcoming duel. Fu Liao could only surmise that something was hidden along Pingguan Pass.
Sure enough, the moment the words left his mouth, the expressions of both women shifted slightly.
Exchanging a glance, Zu Zishan said, “Perhaps the heir should first explain why he is so certain that we killed Lü Chen.”
“Because Prince Jing never drags his feet when dealing with matters,” Fu Liao replied. “If he truly wanted Lü Chen dead, why execute him with court beatings instead of waiting for him to die at home?”
“That argument is far too far-fetched. Who can say for certain what thirty strokes of the heavy cane will do to a man?” Zu Zishan retorted.
“Madam Zu surely understands the inner workings of court punishments better than I do,” Fu Liao said. “And yet, that was Prince Jing.”
“Wait, wait, Sister Zishan…” Lan Nier frowned deeply. “According to the young master, if the high official did not want Lü Chen to die, does that mean we…”
Fu Liao’s gaze dropped slightly.
“Naturally, Prince Jing knew something was amiss,” he said. “Yet he took no action.”
Zu Zishan’s hand paused mid-stroke as she stroked the infant’s head. “He knew?”
“Does not the entire world know that the high official’s reach extends everywhere?”
When he had asked Xi Lingjian earlier whether he had killed Lü Chen, Xi Lingjian’s counter-question had already provided the answer.
“I suspect the two of you did not actually do much other than simply leaving Lü Chen unattended,” Fu Liao continued, voicing his deduction. “Doing so would naturally allow Lü Chen’s death to be pinned on Xi Lingjian.”
Zu Zishan leaned against the wooden counter, her earrings swaying gently. “Are you saying the high official knew what we did and deliberately chose not to clarify it? What benefit would he gain from doing so?”
The sticky sensation on Fu Liao’s palms intensified.
“I do not know. But he did indeed do it,” Fu Liao said. “Perhaps, as I said, he simply does not mind adding one more corpse to his tally.”
“Yet with Lü Chen’s death, his plans went awry, and I imagine he intends to use tomorrow’s duel to rectify it,” he said softly. “I want to know what is hidden there.”
Zu Zishan suddenly let out a soft laugh.
“Young master, you claimed you came for the sake of your own life,” she remarked. “Yet every word you utter sounds as though you are trying to clear the high official’s name?”
Fu Liao paused, heat gradually rising behind his ears.
“The two are not mutually exclusive,” he replied.
“If the heir maintains that the Prince Regent’s objective is tied to Lü Chen, why fret over his own life tomorrow?”
Fu Liao offered a wry smile. “That presents no conflict for him either.”
He was the man’s romantic rival, after all. If anything, Xi Lingjian likely relished the prospect of killing two birds with one stone and resolving multiple problems at once.
“So, knowing full well that the high official wants you dead, the heir still wishes to help him.” Zu Zishan’s tone grew even more mocking.
Fu Liao answered earnestly, “Yes.”
Zu Zishan’s smile faded. “Why?”
“He helped you,” Fu Liao answered. “Naturally, someone should help him in return.”
Xi Lingjian did not seem nearly as terrifying as the rumors claimed, Fu Liao thought, nor was he as ruthless as the heavily biased filter in his own mind had painted him.
That very fact indicated that the conflict between Xi Lingjian and Ji Liandu still retained room for maneuver, and Xi Lingjian would not blindly drive himself down a dead end.
Zu Zishan’s gaze was akin to looking at a fool.
“Then who will help you?”
Fu Liao’s tone lightened. “Naturally, the two of you.”
The expressions of Zu Zishan and Lan Nier turned subtle at the exact same moment.
Seeming entirely oblivious, Fu Liao continued, “So, are the two of you willing to tell me what Lü Chen concealed at Pingguan Pass?”
Zu Zishan sighed and looked toward Lan Nier. “Very well, tell him.”
Still harboring residual fear, Lan Nier spoke in a soft voice.
“There is something. Before returning to the capital, he built a small cottage in a shady alcove of Pingguan Mountain.” She cast a timid glance at Fu Liao. “It was built last winter, tucked right between the ravine at the foot of the mountain and the terminus of Pingguan Pass. Because a large boulder blocks the approach, and the surrounding terrain is soft mud, everyone assumed that area was completely sealed off. In reality, the interior is hollow, and Lü Chen’s cottage is hidden right inside.”
Fu Liao pondered this. “What is inside the cottage?”
“Banknotes, gold, rare antiques, none of which belong to him, of course. There are also incriminating letters that he happened to bring back with him last time,” Zu Zishan shrugged. “Whenever he was in a foul mood, he would drag both of us there.”
She pulled back her sleeve slightly, revealing a scattering of bruises.
“Nier was also drugged and dragged there against her will. Later, when we discovered she was carrying a child, we conspired to stage an act.”
Composed as ever, Zu Zishan smoothed down her garments. “Though he refused Nier outwardly, he was more than eager inside. I originally had Nier coax him into scheming with Lü Chen to kill me, after which Nier and I would arrange an accident for him. I never expected the high official to deliver such a convenient excuse right to our doorstep.”
Fu Liao’s expression turned grave. “I am truly sorry.”
“It is no matter; we have settled our scores,” Zu Zishan sighed. “However, I would love to hear that method you mentioned to Nier that can utterly ruin Lü Chen’s reputation.”
Fu Liao contemplated the situation.
The cottage happened to lack the most crucial pieces of evidence, meaning that even if exposed, it could only be classified as official corruption. Did Xi Lingjian know? If he did, what were his intentions?
He glanced around the room, his brow furrowing slightly. “There is no time to lose, and I only have tonight. I am afraid I will need someone to accompany me out of the city.”
Zu Zishan told Lan Nier, “I will go. You stay here and watch the child.”
Lan Nier nodded. “Please be careful, Sister Zishan, Young Master.”
Fu Liao instructed Zu Zishan to bring along the incriminating letters.
As she prepared them, Fu Liao pushed open the door, only to be met by a sudden gale of fierce wind that whipped up so violently he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Such a strong wind…” He coughed twice.
Zu Zishan stepped out. “Is it?”
Fu Liao paused, wanting to speak, but realized the surroundings were entirely devoid of wind, even the dark clouds having thinned out considerably.
That being the case, the inexplicable gust of wind just now seemed to have carried a faint trace of fragrance.
Xi Lingjian sipped his tea, then pushed the cup back onto the table. “Nosy.”
Yin Ruoche hurriedly lowered his head further, only to realize belatedly that his master’s tone did not actually carry anger.
Meng Zhi refilled the teacup. “Master, shall this servant…”
Xi Lingjian raised a hand to cut him off.
“Let us see what he intends to do.”
He stared at the palm of his right hand, where a distinct, old scar ran horizontally across the center of his skin.
Though the flesh had long since healed tightly, the scar stubbornly refused to fade.
“Master, your injury, shall we summon the imperial physician to inspect it once more?” Yin Ruoche asked anxiously. “There is still poison lingering in it, and you must ride tomorrow; we cannot afford to be careless.”
Xi Lingjian swept a glance at him. Realizing he had spoken out of turn once again, Yin Ruoche pursed his lips and retreated a few paces, only to find that his master had already closed his eyes.
Hesitating for a moment, he spoke up anyway: “Master, how long must we wait before taking action?”
Xi Lingjian opened his eyes.
He could not guess what that person was thinking.
That person’s expression was always indifferent, yet everything around him seemed capable of being ignited by his emotions, spreading outward and pressing down on everyone like an impending crisis.
Yet when one looked back at the instigator himself, he remained entirely placid.
Like a common stone statue carved into a Buddha within a temple.
Hearing his tone remain so resolute from outside the door, only to attempt to decipher his thoughts once more, felt like plunging headfirst into a deep lake and losing all sense of direction.
The hot tea emitted wisps of vibrant, thin mist, dampening the surrounding air into a moist haze.
When it touched the chilling tabletop, familiar micro-droplets materialized once more.
Crystal-clear, soft, and obstinate.
Xi Lingjian’s lips moved slightly.
“Until you see water mist on your sleeves once again.”