Jiang Fanyin did not reach for her teacup. Instead, under the astonished gazes of the three men, she produced a silver needle she had prepared in advance. She tested the wine flask first, then Song Boxue’s cup.
Seeing no change in the needle’s color, she said impassively, “Magistrate Song has not only encountered assassins, but someone also attempted to poison her before. I am certain the Young General and my sworn brother would never stoop to such despicable acts, but one must still guard against those who might strike from the shadows. I hope you will not take offense.”
Song Boxue arched an eyebrow, masking her inner surprise. She hadn’t expected the female lead to be so direct.
Jiang Wuyi’s conscience pricked him, and his face darkened. He felt as though her words were a pointed barb aimed directly at him.
Hua Jian laughed heartily, expressing his understanding. “Quite right. Miss Jiang truly has an eye for detail.”
It seems Commander Jiang was right, Hua Jian thought. Jiang Fanyin is stubbornly devoted to Song Boxue. This matter cannot be rushed.
Jiang Wuyi’s gaze was heavy. He gripped his wine cup and drained it in one gulp, a bitter taste lingering in his heart. He could tell that the Young General viewed Yin’yin differently. But whether it was Song Boxue or Hua Jian—one was her fiancé, the other a powerful Young General, both were more “qualified” than he was.
If he were forced to step aside, he would rather Yin’yin choose Hua Jian than stay with a lowly seventh-rank official like Song Boxue.
The atmosphere in the private room grew strangely stifling for a moment.
Fortunately, Hua Jian was a conversationalist and didn’t let the mood go cold. After a few more rounds of drinks, Song Boxue continued to handle his probes with seamless poise.
“Magistrate Song, you are already the ‘parent official’ of Pingchuan at such a young age. I must toast you once more.”
“Young General is the one who is truly young and promising. I merely stumbled into a quiet post by chance.”
The original Song Boxue had been a scholar at the bottom of the list. She had secured the magistrate position partly because Jiang Fanyin’s father had pulled strings out of old friendship, and partly because she was lucky enough to fill a sudden vacancy. In a backwater hole like Pingchuan, the magistrate’s seat wasn’t exactly a coveted prize.
Song Boxue was telling the truth, it really was a stroke of luck.
As she and Hua Jian tested each other, Jiang Wuyi kept his head down and drank, while Jiang Fanyin quietly sipped her tea. For a time, the atmosphere was almost harmonious.
Realizing he couldn’t fish anything out of her, Hua Jian shifted the topic. “I have grown up in the City Guard and have never had the chance to see the local customs elsewhere. Since I am free lately, I intend to stay in Pingchuan for a while. I shall have to trouble Magistrate Song to host me.”
Song Boxue’s lips twitched, but she nodded in agreement. Setting aside Hua Jian’s status as the male lead, his title as the Young General of the City Guard was enough to ensure she couldn’t refuse, given her current rank.
It was late at night when they headed back. Having drunk some wine, Song Boxue’s gait was a bit sluggish, her steps leisurely.
“I’ll have to trouble you two to head to Weitian Prefecture tomorrow. Inform Prefect Miao of this ‘Young Master Hua’s’ background.”
Private forging of weapons plus a Young General of the City Guard, Prefect Miao would surely be able to connect the dots.
“We do not deserve to be called your elders, Sir. You may call us by our names. I am Lin Da, and this is my younger brother, Lin Er.” The elder guard bowed with humble deference.
“Then I shall trouble you, Brother Lin Da. Brother Lin Er, you stay in Pingchuan for now.” Song Boxue didn’t dwell on the honorifics and gave her orders casually. The Lin brothers accepted simultaneously.
The streets were deserted. Song Boxue glanced at the exceptionally quiet Jiang Fanyin. Thinking about the impending romantic entanglements between the leads, she felt a flicker of irritation. “Sister Jiang, would you like to host that Young General Hua? How about I commission you to accompany him and appreciate the scenery of Pingchuan?”
Jiang Fanyin looked up. This person was referring to themselves as “this official”.
And using words like “host” and “accompany” made her feel inexplicably uncomfortable. She glanced at the Lin brothers behind them, a thought crossing her mind. “I shall follow your orders, Sir.”
“Is that so? Then I shall leave this matter to you, Sister Jiang.”
Song Boxue’s gaze was indifferent. She was being quite “kindhearted,” taking the initiative to create opportunities for the male and female leads to spend time together.
Jiang Fanyin nodded slightly, a sense of bewilderment washing over her. For some reason, she felt as if the person before her was intentionally pushing her away. Was it because of that Young General?
The group of four soon returned to the yamen. Song Boxue saw Jiang Fanyin to her room but then immediately left the rear quarters.
“Brother Lin Da, set out tonight. Brother Lin Er, come with me to the dungeon.”
On a night like this, she felt like doing something productive—like interrogating prisoners.
Standing outside the cells, Song Boxue randomly picked two of the assassins and had them brought to the “Fire Cell”—the torture chamber. She waved away the head jailer and ordered Lin Er to stand guard outside.
Song Boxue studied the two men tied to the stakes. “I heard you lot ‘don’t know anything’?”
The two assassins exchanged a look and remained silent.
Song Boxue impassively picked up a red-hot branding iron and pressed it against the older of the two. Fabric and flesh hissed instantly, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning. The assassin let out a muffled groan, gritting his teeth to swallow the scream at the back of his throat.
Song Boxue chuckled. She applied more pressure. The older assassin couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a guttural roar. Beside him, the younger assassin turned his face away. They were soldiers of the City Guard—they would rather die than yield.
When the iron began to lose its glow, Song Boxue swapped it for another white-hot one and continued. She didn’t ask questions; she just branded him over and over, her expression unchanged regardless of the sounds he made, as if she were playing a simple game of stamping paper.
Finally, the older assassin gave one last scream and went limp. Song Boxue checked his breath; he was still alive.
She arched an eyebrow and said in a tone of mock disappointment, “Dead already? Drag him out and bring the next one in.”
The youth beside him hung his head, large tears splashing onto the floor, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Song Boxue leaned close to the youth and smiled. “Speak now, and the rest can live. Otherwise, no one leaves this room alive tonight.”
The youth looked up sharply. The sight of the person before him smiling like that made her look like a devil. “You corrupt official! Just kill me! Kill me!”
“No rush. Your turn is last.”
Song Boxue watched as Lin Er dragged in another man. She picked up the red-hot iron again. Screams mixed with the smell of charred flesh added a ghastly horror to the chamber. The youth was sobbing hysterically now, yet he still ground his teeth shut.
“Oh dear, another one’s out. Bring in the next.”
Lin Er dragged the bodies out with a wooden face, though his heart was filled with dread. Prefect Miao was right, this young Magistrate was not to be underestimated. No normal person would act like this.
Soon, another was dragged in, and a new round of the “game” began.
Watching his comrades go from screaming to silence before being dragged out one by one, the youth finally snapped. “Stop! Stop. I’ll talk.”
Song Boxue raised an eyebrow, her voice thin and cool. “Take him down and have him sign the confession.”
Once a breach is made in a line of defense, the entire line ceases to exist. One by one, the dozen or so men signed and pressed their thumbprints. A full confession was delivered into Song Boxue’s hands.
Back in the cell, the youth looked at his unconscious comrades and wailed in grief. As long as they’re still alive.
Over at the inn, Hua Jian finished listening to Advisor Zhou’s report and kicked him to the ground. “Useless!”
They had actually confessed. A bunch of wastes! If he had known, he should have silenced them during the day. He wondered what the Magistrate’s next move would be.
To his surprise, Song Boxue acted as if nothing had happened. She didn’t mention the assassins at all and even sent Jiang Fanyin to host him.
For a Young General like Hua Jian, “hosting” meant nothing more than wining, dining, and seeking pleasure. Pingchuan was small and impoverished, with very few places for entertainment, so all that was left was eating and drinking.
And so, the group returned once more to Pingchuan County’s premier establishment: the “Building Above Buildings.”
Hua Jian was eager to close the distance between them, but Jiang Fanyin remained consistently lukewarm, offering little more than a few clipped words.
After the meal, he had a servant bring forward an exquisitely crafted, pale pink ruqun (traditional type of Chinese clothing for women).
“Miss Jiang,” he said, “when we meet tomorrow, I look forward to seeing you in this.”