Lin Shu couldn’t be bothered to waste another word on him. Leaning against the wall, she shuffled out step by step.
She felt she deserved no less than thirty to fifty thousand taels of silver for her nearly splitting headache.
As she passed by Xiao Che, her legs suddenly gave way, and her body swayed uncontrollably.
Xiao Che instinctively reached out, but his fingertips retracted sharply just an inch from her sleeve, clenching into a fist.
Steadying herself, Lin Shu didn’t even spare him a glance and walked straight out, leaving behind the musty, gloomy dungeon and that complicated man.
In the dungeon, only Xiao Che and Wang Daifu remained—the latter still chained to the wall, unconscious.
Xiao Che stood still for a long time before slowly walking over to Wang Daifu and checking his breathing. He was still alive.
Turning to leave the cell, he coldly commanded toward the shadows, “An Yi.”
“Master.”
“Send someone to investigate every detail of Lin Shu’s life from childhood to now, especially who she has met and where she has been. Not a single word can be missed. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Also,” Xiao Che paused, his voice lowering further, “take people to Huichun Pharmacy yourself. Retrieve the items from the location she mentioned.”
“Remember, be quick.”
“Yes!” An Yi’s figure vanished once more.
Xiao Che stood at the dungeon entrance. The night wind blew, carrying a biting chill, but it couldn’t dispel the restlessness and shock in his heart.
Evil magic?
No, that wasn’t evil magic.
It was more like… a command that took immediate effect.
A power he couldn’t comprehend but had to believe.
He closed his eyes, his mind filled with Lin Shu’s clear, cold, and determined eyes—completely different from the brainless Lin Shu of the past.
What had happened to this woman? How could there be such a stark contrast? What secrets was she hiding?
…
Half an hour later, An Yi returned, kneeling on one knee in the study with his head bowed low.
“Master, the hidden compartment is empty.”
Xiao Che’s hand, which had been wiping his longsword, suddenly stilled. The blade gleamed coldly under the candlelight.
“Empty?”
“Yes. I pried open the floor tile, and the hidden compartment inside was completely empty, with only a thin layer of dust. Judging by the traces, the items must have been taken not long ago.”
Xiao Che’s expression instantly darkened.
Had someone beaten him to it?
Did Lin Wan’er have a backup plan, or had Wang Daifu arranged everything before going mad?
For the first time, he felt that the situation had become tricky beyond his control.
The clue ended here again.
Unless…
Xiao Che’s mind involuntarily conjured Lin Shu’s figure once more.
Wang Daifu was insane, but there were others at Huichun Pharmacy.
That apprentice named Cen Yi, and the other assistants and apprentices…
He pinched the bridge of his nose, a wave of irritation rising within him.
He actually had to seek out that woman again.
To use her bizarre methods to pry open someone else’s mouth.
This feeling made him feel utterly useless.
“Enough.” Xiao Che sheathed his sword and stood up. “To Tingxue Courtyard.”
As he reached the door, Steward Xiao hurriedly approached.
“Young Master, where are you going?”
“To Tingxue Courtyard.”
Steward Xiao was taken aback and quickly said, “Young Master, Eldest Miss Lin is not in the courtyard.”
Xiao Che’s steps halted. “Where did she go?”
“Reporting to Young Master, the Eldest Miss has gone to Songhe Hall, saying she wishes to visit the Old Madam.”
Xiao Che: “…”
He pressed his throbbing temples, momentarily unsure whether to be angry or amused.
That woman—reduced to such a wretched state in the dungeon—instead of resting properly, actually had the energy to visit his grandmother?
What was she trying to accomplish?
Before he could ponder further, a sense of foreboding rose in Xiao Che’s heart. Setting everything else aside, he strode briskly toward Songhe Hall.
Inside Songhe Hall, it was so quiet one could hear the faint crackle of candle flames.
When Xiao Che arrived, the chaos he had anticipated was nowhere to be seen.
Only two lamps were lit in the Nuan Pavilion, casting a dim yellow light that stretched people’s shadows long.
His mother sat on a daybed nearby, clutching prayer beads, her brow furrowed with weariness and worry that seemed impossible to dispel.
And the woman he had expected to collapse was now seated by the bedside.
Lin Shu’s face remained pale, a faint sheen of sweat still on her forehead, yet her back was ramrod straight.
In one hand, she held a small bowl; in the other, a silver spoon, carefully feeding something to his grandmother spoonful by spoonful.
It wasn’t medicine—just a simple bowl of clear rice broth.
Her movements were slow but remarkably patient.
After each spoonful, she would pause, gently dabbing the old woman’s chapped lips with a handkerchief, waiting for her to swallow before offering the next.
Throughout it all, she was so focused it was as if only she and the patient on the bed existed in the world.
This scene stood in stark contrast to the image in Xiao Che’s mind of a spoiled, arrogant, and tearful fool.
He even began to wonder if the calm, composed woman before him was the same as the fragile shadow in the dungeon, seemingly on the verge of shattering at any moment.
How many faces did she truly have?
Xiao Che’s footsteps alerted the Marquis lady. She looked up, and upon seeing her son, the worry in her eyes deepened, though she only shook her head silently.
Lin Shu also heard the commotion but didn’t even turn her head. She merely paused her movements for a moment, her voice slightly hoarse as she instructed, “Hua Ping, fetch a warm towel to place on the Old Madam’s forehead.”
“Yes,” Hua Ping replied and hurried off.
Xiao Che stood where he was, watching her carry out these tasks methodically. The inexplicable anger in his heart inexplicably subsided, replaced by a more complex and indescribable emotion.
He wanted to demand why the secret compartment was empty, but the words died on his lips, feeling utterly meaningless in such a setting.
Amid this oppressive silence, a delicate voice drifted in from outside, shattering the tranquility within the room.
“Grandmother Xiao, Wan’er has come to see you.”
Lin Wan’er entered gracefully, carrying an exquisite food box.
She had changed into more understated attire, her face lightly powdered to conceal her weariness. With a flutter of her eyes, she resumed her pitiable, delicate demeanor.
As soon as she entered, she spotted Xiao Che first, a flicker of delight in her eyes. But then she noticed Lin Shu by the bedside, and that delight instantly froze, transforming into a barely perceptible trace of resentment.
“Young Master, Madam,” Lin Wan’er curtsied before approaching the bedside with the food box, her voice soft and gentle. “Grandmother Xiao, Wan’er knows you haven’t had much appetite these past few days, so I specially brought you the newly released Milk Crisp from Fu Man Lou. It’s wonderfully soft and sweet—would you like to try a little?”
As she spoke, she opened the food container, and a rich, sweet milky aroma instantly filled the air.
“Take it away.”
Without even looking up, Lin Shu uttered two words, her voice cool and detached.