The official boat arrived at the Suzhou ferry as night fell.
Pei Xiaoyun stood tall in a black brocade robe edged with gold thread, his broad shoulders and long legs accentuated by the billowing fabric, exuding an imposing aura of nobility.
Upon disembarking, only the Assistant Prefect of Suzhou and a few magistrates came to greet him. The prefect of Suzhou was still handling the case of the Kongchan Sect's attack on officials' families and could not arrive in time.
Everyone knew that although Pei Xiaoyun was merely a minister in name, he held the authority of a regent, wielding immense power and speaking with absolute command. The officials of Suzhou had long prepared a feast at the Baili Qingyue Pavilion to welcome him and wash away the dust of his journey.
Sycophants crowded forward: "Lord Pei, please."
Pei Xiaoyun disdained their flattery, pursed his lips in silence, and boarded the carriage. His figure melted into the night, appearing particularly stern.
His visit was not solely for the investigation; he also wished to personally seek news of her. After all these years without a trace, he wanted to see if she had truly died in Suzhou.
Recently, Kongchan Sect followers had been roaming various parts of Suzhou, leaving the streets unusually deserted. Only the Baili Qingyue Pavilion remained warm and bustling, filled with distinguished guests.
"Lord Pei, you must be weary from your journey. We have arranged an exquisite pipa dance performance to dispel your worries and ease your fatigue."
Pei Xiaoyun took his seat behind the beaded curtain, his forehead throbbing slightly from the warm, perfumed air. Upon hearing it was a pipa dance, his gaze darkened further.
Ming Ying finished applying her makeup and changed into her dance attire. This dance required a veil to cover her face, highlighting a unique, hazy beauty.
Her figure was graceful and captivating, like a lotus emerging from water, outshining the six other dancers beside her—including Huarao, who had long regarded her as a thorn in her side.
Huarao clenched her fist quietly, already scheming in her heart, a smug smile curling at the corner of her lips.
As three claps sounded from behind the curtain, the seven dancers stepped forward with light, orderly steps.
Pei Xiaoyun watched the figures of the seven women through the swaying beaded curtain, finding them dull and instead feeling a wave of irritation. He was about to gesture for them to leave when, at the moment he raised his hand, the sound of the pipa began.
The crisp notes of the strings struck his ears as the women before him began to dance. As if guided by the music, his gaze involuntarily fell upon the woman at the front.
Around her snow-white ankle, she wore a string of jade bells that chimed softly with her graceful movements, like a clear spring trickling through stone crevices.
His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward unconsciously. His gaze drifted slowly from that ankle to her slender waist, her delicate wrists, and finally to the pair of glistening eyes above the veil.
A strange, inexplicable feeling rose in his heart, and he frowned slightly.
The music gradually grew more urgent. Ming Ying quickened her movements, catching a glimpse of a man seated behind the beaded curtain. His features were unclear, but she could make out the outline of his figure.
She was filling in for Shen Yao's position. In the middle of the piece, she needed to step forward and perform a standing "shooting the swallow" pose amid the others.
Adjusting her stance, she slowly advanced, stopping near the beaded curtain. As she glanced up, the sight froze her in place, sending cold sweat trickling down her back.
The man's hawk-like eyes were sharp and profound, his brows coldly arched, his features shadowed with intensity. In that fleeting glance, she realized he was watching her.
She quickly averted her terrifying gaze, feeling like an ant on a hot pan or a mouse chased by a cat, panicked and at a loss.
She saw clearly—it was Pei Xiaoyun.
Three years had passed, and his features had grown even more dangerously cold, as if brimming with seething murderous intent.
Memories sealed away for three years flowed into her mind like a stream. Stiffly, she balanced on the tips of her toes, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air.
Whether it was a premonition or a memory, she felt his gaze—cold and serpentine—coiling around her, threatening to suffocate her.
At that moment, what throbbed and boiled was not the drumbeat, but her own heart.
Seeing him remain seated and unmoving, Ming Ying forcibly suppressed the panic in her heart, comforting herself: Behind the beaded curtain, with my face veiled, perhaps he hasn’t recognized me.
She had been “dead” for three years. He had married and had children, likely long forgotten her. How could he possibly recognize her now?
Since he had come to Suzhou, she would leave with Lin Xian to lay low after finishing this dance.
It would be fine.
As the song ended, she held her final pose, her hands still weaving patterns, her expression now slightly more composed.
Suddenly, someone pushed her from behind. Losing her balance, she stumbled into a nearby flower stand, and half of her face veil slipped down.
Her heart clenched. She quickly covered her face, adjusted her posture, and prepared to retreat with the others.
Pei Xiaoyun’s eyes flickered. He had caught a glimpse of half her face, but the beaded curtain had obscured it, leaving him unable to see clearly.
For some reason, a flame began to burn within him.
“Wait.”
He raised his hand to call the woman forward, but in that split second, a sharp arrow shot through the air, piercing the window screen and aiming straight for his chest. With lightning reflexes, he caught the arrow barehanded, his brow darkening like storm clouds.
“Quick! There’s an assassin downstairs! Capture the assassin!”
The accompanying officials shouted in alarm.
The dancers and musicians, hearing of the assassin, screamed and scattered like frightened birds.
Ming Ying didn’t even have time to change her clothes. Barefoot, she fled the Hundred Li Pavilion and ran toward Lin Xian’s residence.
Lin Xian heard the frantic knocking and opened the door to find Ming Ying standing disheveled outside. “A-Ying, what’s wrong?”
Ming Ying’s voice trembled as her icy hands gripped his arm. “Ziming, we can’t stay in Suzhou any longer. We must leave quickly.”
For several days, Pei Xiaoyun had been hunting down the audacious assassin.
It was discovered that the assassin was a follower of the Kongchan Sect. Having failed in the assassination attempt, he had vented his anger by killing several civilians in the streets.
The officials of Suzhou were berated by Pei Xiaoyun until they trembled like sieves, shrinking their necks like quails.
“This is not the first time the Kongchan Sect has killed civilians within Suzhou’s borders,” Pei Xiaoyun said, turning his dark, piercing eyes toward them.
The arrow that had targeted him was poisoned. Though it had only grazed his palm, the poison was lethal. Had it not been for He Lianqing’s medicine, the outcome would have been dire.
He waved away the maid who was bandaging his wound, his eyes gleaming with ferocity as he issued his command: “If you fail to uncover this person’s whereabouts within three days, consider your official positions forfeited.”
“We will spare no effort, Your Excellency.”
After they left, Pei Xiaoyun reclined in his armchair, closing his eyes in feigned rest. In the haze of his thoughts, a figure emerged—the woman who had danced at the Hundred Li Pavilion.
That fleeting glimpse of half her face tugged at his heartstrings, plucking them with a force that left him reeling, as if the world had turned upside down.
Perhaps the arrow’s poison clashed with the toxins already in his body, causing frequent flare-ups. He clutched his chest and coughed up a mouthful of dark blood.
Kong Qing called He Lianqing in.
He Lianqing was already well-acquainted with his condition. He handed him a pill and watched him closely. “Thinking of a woman again?”
“What are you talking about?” Pei Xiaoyun steadied his breathing.
“Don’t think I don’t know. Every time you think of a woman, your poison flares up. It’s fine when you don’t.”
He Lianqing closed the medicine chest and took out a few extra pills for Kong Qing.
He had heard from Kong Qing that their Eldest Master had once lost a concubine who ran away. After she left, he had been searching for her ever since, but to no avail, and his health had been deteriorating ever since.
“Your medicine contains a herb called snow lotus grass. Only a few stalks of that snow lotus grass are produced each year—you can’t buy it even with money. Once you’ve used up the snow lotus grass, I won’t be able to save you.”
He Lianqing shook his head helplessly. “What kind of woman couldn’t you have? Wouldn’t they come flocking if you just beckoned? Why obsess over that one?”
“Get out!” Pei Xiaoyun roared.
“Fine, fine, I’m leaving.” He Lianqing fled in a panic.
In the quiet of the night, Pei Xiaoyun tossed and turned.
He Lianqing’s words echoed repeatedly in his ears.
Thinking of a woman.
He sneered. He was thinking about how he would kill her once he found her.
Thinking of Ming Ying, that half-covered face from Baili Qing kept swirling in his mind, impossible to shake off. The clear sound of the pipa seemed to reverberate in the room, sometimes fast, sometimes slow.
The pipa, the dance, Baili Qing.
He closed his eyes, and all he saw was Ming Ying’s face—crying, laughing, speaking to him in his arms.
Finally, he threw on his robe, got up, and called for someone.
“Bring me all seven women who danced at Baili Qing that day.”
He wanted to see that face with his own eyes, to confirm one thing.
It wasn’t until dawn that the six women were brought to the mansion. Hearing that a high-ranking official from the capital wanted to see them, some had carefully done their makeup, filled with joy, while others were trembling, unsure of what was happening.
The six removed their veils, revealing their true faces.
Pei Xiaoyun sat at the head of the room, sweeping his gaze over them indifferently. None of them were the one—not a single one resembled her.
“Where is the other one?” he asked.
One of the women replied, “Are you referring to Shen Ying? She’s not at home. We’ve been trying to find her to learn the pipa from her, but she’s nowhere to be found.”
The moment Pei Xiaoyun heard the name “Ying,” it struck his ears. He silently repeated and savored the word in his mind. Could it really be such a coincidence? One of the seven was missing. He was searching for her, yet she had vanished without a trace.
He recalled the woman’s graceful and familiar figure—every inch of her, even if she were completely unclothed, he could imagine it clearly.
The fire in his heart burned hotter and hotter. Something was gradually surfacing, its outline becoming clearer and clearer.
He sent someone to investigate her address, but only her family member, Shen Yao, was brought back.
“Where did she go?” Pei Xiaoyun asked with a smile, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His pupils were as dark as lacquer, like a predator lurking in the dark night.
He was almost certain that he had finally caught the fox by its tail, forcing her into a panic and leading her right into his trap.
Shen Yao held her breath, trembling.
When A-Ying left for Hangzhou with the musician Lin, she had told her to avoid worrying her.
She silently observed the man before her. Though he was dressed in luxurious and noble attire, with an extraordinary bearing, the moment she met his eyes, she felt a chilling aura envelop her.
Faced with such a person, how could she easily reveal A-Ying’s whereabouts?
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
“You don’t know?” Pei Xiaoyun stared at her, his words icy.
Shen Yao didn’t dare look at him. “I really don’t know. We had a falling out, and she moved out of my house.”
At that moment, one of the six women stepped forward.
“Sir, I know where she went!”
The speaker was Hua Rao.
Because Ming Ying had repeatedly opposed her at Baili Qing, making her lose face several times, she had secretly sent someone to keep an eye on her movements, hoping to seize the initiative by learning about any new dance routines before she did.
Looking at the man before her, he didn’t seem like a good-natured sort. It must be that Shen Yao, with her fickle and flirtatious ways, had entangled too many men, and this one before her had come seeking revenge.
“Huaruo, shut your mouth!” Shen Yao glared at her angrily.
Ignoring Shen Yao, Huaruo spoke with a smug confidence, “She left for Hangzhou with her lover seven days ago, traveling through the night.”
Pei Xiaoyun’s eyes turned bloodshot, a surge of chaotic energy churning in his chest.
Seven days ago—wasn’t that the night after the dance? Did she recognize him and leave in a hurry?
He silently repeated the word “good” several times in his heart, then crushed the teacup with a sharp crack. Gnashing his teeth, he nearly spat out each word, “Who is her lover?”
“Who else could it be?”
Huaruo described it vividly, “Lin Xian, the musician. The two of them have been entangled for a long time. That kind of impure woman—Musician Lin must have been utterly bewitched by her to even consider marrying her!”
Author’s Note: Due to being featured tomorrow, a higher word count could affect rankings, so today’s update is shorter. A longer chapter will be posted tomorrow, but the update time will be at 23:00. Please take note [kiss]. Regular update times will resume afterward [big laugh].