It was a sleepless night.
By the latter half of the night, the snow had fallen even heavier.
With the fireworks finished and the firecrackers silenced, the goose-feather snow slowly blanketed the bloodstains and footprints, burying the crime.
Luojing City sank into the deepest, heaviest silence of New Year’s Eve.
Ci’er sat at the dressing table, entirely awake.
The door was pushed open from the outside, and a gust of cold wind poured in, carrying the metallic stench of blood.
Xie Yunjin stood at the threshold.
His dark hair, soaked by the melting snow, clung to his pale cheeks, and his lips were so devoid of color they looked ashen.
His dark brocade robe was torn in several places, and the dark crimson of blood extended from the webbing between his thumb and index finger all the way to his wristbone.
The blood from the saber wound on the back of his hand had half-dried.
Yet, despite being covered in snow and wind, he radiated an untamable, imposing aura—broken but sharp.
“You’re hurt?” Ci’er quickly stepped forward.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” Xie Yunjin said as he closed the door.
His expression was stern, and his voice was noticeably hoarser than usual.
“That bastard deliberately picked the dark corners and narrow alleys, taking a few turns before darting into the alleyways beneath Taiping Bridge.
That area is a nest of vagrants, housing over a Hundred Households.
With it being the New Year, it’s inconvenient for the Embroidery Bureau to conduct a door-to-door search.
“I’ve mobilized men from the Five Cities Military Department to surround and guard the entire block, and I personally notified the General.
Tomorrow morning, we’ll check the populace against the neighborhood registry.”
“‘Brocade Robe Officers, Brocade Robe Officers, when the Windchaser Saber is drawn, there is nowhere to hide?’ Are you actually afraid of disturbing the commoners, Second Master?” Ci’er glanced at him, her tone indifferent.
“Those words sound too humane.
Not at all like Yama Xie, who kills without batting an eye.”
Xie Yunjin rolled his eyes at her and didn’t retort.
He slumped into a chair and leaned back, looking as though he had exhausted all his strength.
He rested his injured hand motionlessly on his knee, the blood still dripping from his fingertips, falling drop by drop onto the green brick floor.
Ci’er cast a glance at it, turned around to rummage through the cabinet, and took out some clean cotton cloth.
She then pulled a jar of strong liquor from under the bed.
Pouring the liquor over the cloth, she walked over to him, crouched down, and pulled his right hand toward her.
Xie Yunjin did not resist.
When the cotton cloth pressed against the wound, the burning pain was bone-deep.
Xie Yunjin’s fingers curled slightly as he cast a sidelong glance at her.
The outer corners of his eyes tilted up slightly; even in pain, he didn’t frown.
Instead, he exuded a feral, flirtatious charm.
“That bastard’s martial arts aren’t weak,” he began, his voice tinged with a lazy disdain.
“His mastery of the Windchaser Saber is stronger than that of more than half the Ti Qi in the Embroidery Bureau, and his footwork is fast.
If he hadn’t played a dirty trick by throwing a sedative at me, this blade wouldn’t have even grazed me.”
“There’s no shame in getting hurt.
You don’t need to be so stubborn, Second Master.”
“Wei.
Zhao.” Xie Yunjin gritted his teeth.
Ci’er ignored him.
She carefully cleaned his wound and muttered in a low voice, “The killer knows how to skin people, excels at embroidery, understands sedatives, and is familiar with the terrain of Luojing…
Such a figure wouldn’t be too common in the city, nor would they be entirely unknown…”
Xie Yunjin snorted but remained silent, his gaze falling onto her fingertips that were holding his hand.
Ci’er looked up, gave him a fleeting glance, and forcefully yanked the cotton cloth wrapped around his wound to tie a knot.
The pressure made Xie Yunjin hiss.
“Lighter.”
“Endure it.” Ci’er’s face was devoid of expression, though her movements softened slightly.
The candlelight illuminated the side of her face, her eyelashes casting a small patch of shadow beneath her eyes, making her expression unreadable.
Her hands were cold, and so were his.
Yet, as their two temperature-lacking hands clasped together, it inexplicably made the room feel a little less freezing.
After the bandaging was done, a brief silence hung in the air before Ci’er let go of his hand and stood up.
“Your wound is dealt with.
You can go back now, Second Master.”
Xie Yunjin flexed his bandaged hand, his tone casual.
“I originally came today because I have something to give you.”
Slightly surprised, Ci’er raised her eyes to look at him.
Xie Yunjin chuckled softly, pulling a Cloud Pattern Coin Purse from his robes and handing it to her.
“Wear this on the day of the selection.”
Ci’er loosened the drawstrings of the pouch.
Inside was a pair of pearl earrings, a beaded hairpin, and a small box of begonia-colored lipstick.
The quality was exquisite—it was clearly worth a fortune at a single glance.
“You came all the way here on New Year’s Eve just to add to my dowry, Second Master?”
“To save you from calling me stingy behind my back.”
Ci’er accepted it without hesitation, her eyes sweeping over him.
“Don’t worry.
I will definitely make the Young Master unable to tear his eyes away.”
“Quite full of confidence, aren’t you?” Xie Yunjin stood up to his full height, tilting his head slightly as he leaned close to her temple.
He was much taller than her.
As he bent down, the lines of his shoulders and back tensed and then relaxed, like a crouching panther suddenly releasing its power, quickly returning to his habitual laziness.
“Then I will prepare another small gift as an advance wish for your success.”
He didn’t touch her.
A yellowed notebook with scorched edges had mysteriously appeared in his hand.
He placed it gently on the dressing table, cast a deeply meaningful glance at her, and turned to push the door open.
With a gust of snow and wind, he vanished without a trace.
Ci’er’s gaze fell on the notebook, her breathing hitching slightly.
It was her Mother’s relic.
She didn’t pick it up immediately.
Instead, she stood rooted to the spot and stared at it for a long time, as if there were something in those pages she dared not touch.
After a long while, she slowly reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing against the cover.
As if afraid of disturbing something, she opened it with utmost caution.
Back when the entire Wei family was exterminated, reduced to scorched earth overnight, most of their belongings had been looted and destroyed.
Ci’er turned the pages one by one by the dim candlelight.
The great fire had left many marks on the paper, and some of the writing was blurred, but she could still recognize her Mother’s handwriting.
“Yin Zhao has turned one year old.
During her Zhuazhou ceremony, she bypassed the golden abacus, bypassed the women’s needlework, and grabbed the Seal.
All the guests in the hall laughed, saying this girl would become an official in the future.
Her Grandmother couldn’t stop smiling, remarking that in this day and age, who would let a girl become an official?
‘Yin Zhao,’ she said, ‘it will be enough for you to be the head of the family in the future.’ Yin Zhao didn’t understand any of this; she just hugged the Seal and chewed on it.”
Ci’er continued flipping the pages.
“Yin Zhao is three years old.
When asked what she wants to be when she grows up, she blinked and said: ‘I want to be someone like Mother.’ I asked: ‘What kind of person is Mother?’ She said: ‘Someone who can scold people and who will hug me.’ This silly girl doesn’t even know how to compliment someone properly.”
She flipped another page.
“Yin Zhao is five years old.
Her Sister tried to teach her how to read, but she refused to learn, insisting on learning to ride a horse instead.
Her Father couldn’t talk her out of it and lifted her onto the horse.
She was so scared that she burst into loud wails, but the moment she stopped crying, she wanted to get back on again.
This girl is both timid yet stubborn.”
She flipped another page.
Page after page, it was filled entirely with daily trivialities.
It featured her, as well as her Sister, and the childhood she had almost forgotten.
Between the lines of her Mother’s writing, those memories slowly came back to life.
She saw how she had grown up, and how deeply she had been loved.
She flipped to the last page.
“Yin Zhao, my child.
Today you asked your Mother why a Wei Family’s daughter does not marry.
Mother answers you now: a Wei Family’s daughter is never an appendage to a man.
We act as the head of the family, carry on the ancestral line, and pass down the bloodline.
Marriage?
That is the destination of ordinary women, not yours.
“For two hundred and seventy years, the Wei family has relied not on clinging to men, but on the women of every generation standing tall and independent on their own.
“My dear Zhao’er, if the Wei family ever encounters an unforeseen disaster, you and Yin Shuang must remember to survive.
Even if it means altering your appearances, even if it means hiding your true names, you must live on.
Only by surviving will there be a day to rebuild the honor of our family.”
The two-hundred-and-seventy-year-old Wei family.
She remembered those solemn, orderly memorial tablets in the Wei Family Ancestral Hall, remembered the etiquette of every sacrificial ceremony, and the wording of every sacrificial elegy.
With a single fire, everything was gone.
Ci’er’s fingertips stroked her Mother’s final words, unable to utter a single sound.
She had to survive.
She had lived in the Stone Prison for five years, treated like an animal, yet she hadn’t died.
Now that she was out of the Stone Prison, of course, she had to survive.
She would wait for the day her family’s name was cleared, and then she would rebuild their honor.