Just as Zhang Zhicheng reached once more for the wine jug, Feng Jiu’er leaned forward and pressed a single finger down on its lid.

Unable to lift the jug, Zhang Zhicheng increased the force of his grip.

Yet unexpectedly, this slender, delicate hand—so much like a woman’s—was able to exert such tremendous strength.

So much so that he simply could not lift the jug at all.

After several attempts, Zhang Zhicheng finally gave up.

“Who are you people? What right do you have to control me?” He glared furiously at Feng Jiu’er.

“My surname is Long.” Feng Jiu’er met Zhang Zhicheng’s gaze and removed her hat.

“It’s you?” Zhang Zhicheng’s brow furrowed. “Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

“You…”

“If you keep refusing to see reason, angering your father to death will be the least of it. You know how important the poison is, don’t you?” Feng Jiu’er’s voice grew low.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Zhang Zhicheng stood up.

Standing too hastily, his body swayed involuntarily.

“I just want to know the truth. Whether your family of four gets executed has nothing to do with me.”

Feng Jiu’er picked up the wine jug and leisurely poured herself a cup.

“If this wasn’t your doing, confess now, and there may still be time to save your family’s lives.”

“Young Master, the Old Patriarch is a man of deep loyalty and righteousness. I believe his children must be no different. How you choose to act is entirely up to you.”

Feng Jiu’er held her cup, raising her eyes to look at Zhang Zhicheng.

She was thinking that if he dared to leave, she wouldn’t hesitate to hurl the cup at him, leaving him unable to walk for a week or more.

Whether he wanted to court death was none of her concern, but having gone through so much trouble already, Feng Jiu’er certainly didn’t want it all to be for nothing.

Zhang Zhicheng stood rooted to the spot for a good while, then turned back to meet Feng Jiu’er’s gaze.

He took a deep breath and sat back down. “I don’t know anything.”

“And then?” Feng Jiu’er sniffed at the wine in her cup before setting it down.

“I…” Zhang Zhicheng blinked.

“Out with it, I’ve already waited long enough.” Feng Jiu’er said, a touch impatiently.

“I don’t know… whether it’s… I don’t know if it’s him? Jiang Hongsheng, a man I know from the town.” Zhang Zhicheng clenched his fist.

With a bang, he struck the table hard.

“I don’t know if he’s been using me. The breeding farm has had trouble several times now, and I wasn’t in the stockade for any of them.”

“Where were you, then?” Feng Jiu’er glanced at the delicacies on the table and raised an eyebrow.

Once she got her answer, she planned to eat a proper meal—she was hungry.

“It was Jiang Hongsheng. He’d invite me to a tea pavilion behind the mountain to drink, and every time I’d get drunk—after that, I don’t know what happened.”

“But every single time I went back, I’d hear word that something had gone wrong at the breeding farm.”

“Before, didn’t Father say it was wild beasts?” Zhang Zhicheng looked at Feng Jiu’er, his breathing rapid.

“How was I to know that the moment you all arrived, it would suddenly be called man-made? If it really is man-made, I wonder if it could be…”

Zhang Zhicheng clenched his fist again, reached forward to take back the wine jug, and tilted his head back to gulp it down directly.

Feng Jiu’er hadn’t expected the wine to be gone just like that, but at least this whole affair having nothing to do with the Young Master was something of a comfort for the Old Patriarch.

At the very least, the one who had betrayed him wasn’t his own son.

“What kind of man is Jiang Hongsheng?” She composed herself and asked softly.

“A gambler.” With a clatter, Zhang Zhicheng set down the wine jug.

“I came to know him through Lingling—Jiang Lingling, that is, Jiang Hongsheng’s younger sister—whom I met first.”

“He’s a righteous, loyal sort of person, and the two of us get along reasonably well.”

“Reasonably well?” Feng Jiu’er gave a strained curl of her lips.

There was no way this could be such a coincidence—this matter surely had something to do with this Jiang Hongsheng.

“I don’t know.” Zhang Zhicheng was furious as well.

If things really were as he suspected, then was that night with Lingling perhaps not an accident either?

Feng Jiu’er could see Zhang Zhicheng’s anguish, but she only treated illness, not matters of the heart.

“What do you intend to do now?” After a moment, she asked softly.

Zhang Zhicheng glanced up at Feng Jiu’er, then lowered his head again.

“Today I had meant to find Jiang Hongsheng and get a clear answer, but I didn’t expect him to be together with the gambling den’s Boss Cai and Boss Qin.”

“Jiang Hongsheng is very close with those two, often together with them. I’m worried this matter isn’t solely Jiang Hongsheng’s doing.”

Zhang Zhicheng took a deep breath, meeting Feng Jiu’er’s gaze once more.

“You two have been following me half the day—you must have been to that gambling den too. That Cai fellow and that Qin fellow are no good men.”

“Their gambling dens alone number three in this town, and it seems even the brothel…” Speaking of this, Zhang Zhicheng’s brow furrowed.

Had he really had nowhere else to go, that he’d ended up in a place like this?

“In any case, their standing here is high, and they have many men under them. I won’t risk it.”

“Because of their standing, you suspect they’re connected to the theft of the poison as well?” Feng Jiu’er’s voice sounded again.

Zhang Zhicheng looked up and nodded. “Mm.”

“Let’s go.” Feng Jiu’er stood up. “Time to pay them a visit.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Zhang Zhicheng stood up too. “Boss Cai and Boss Qin are the local powers here—you dare to make a move against them?”

“Who said anything about making a move against them?” Feng Jiu’er tossed out the words flatly and strode toward the door.

“The poison is your father’s responsibility. Right now I’m here under Master Lei’s orders to investigate—that’s my responsibility too.”

“Since they’re connected to the loss of the poison, I must go and get to the bottom of it.”

Zhang Zhicheng strode forward, blocking Feng Jiu’er’s path.

But Jian Yi was faster than him.

He stood beside Feng Jiu’er, longsword in hand, leveling it at Zhang Zhicheng.

Zhang Zhicheng swept a glance over Jian Yi, then returned his gaze to Feng Jiu’er.

“They have many men—are you courting death?”

“Move aside!” Feng Jiu’er glanced up at him.

“I can’t let you go to your deaths! If it truly is them, we can send word to Master Lei and have him send people over.” Zhang Zhicheng still refused to budge.

Feng Jiu’er waved her hand, and Jian Yi withdrew his sword.

“Don’t you understand what Master Lei is capable of? Right now you’re the one who let the wolf into the house—you can’t escape responsibility for this matter.”

“If Master Lei finds out, do you think you’ll get away unscathed?”

The crux of it was, she didn’t want to wait—she didn’t want to waste even a moment.

Zhang Zhicheng was left speechless by Feng Jiu’er’s rebuke.

Nearly everyone in Li City knew exactly what kind of man Master Lei was.

He did not want to die.

Zhang Zhicheng composed himself and said in a low voice, “This trouble is of my own making. If anyone’s going to court death, it should be me.”

With those words, he turned back, fetched his sword, and headed outside.

Seeing that this Young Master still knew how to care for others—that he wasn’t beyond saving—Feng Jiu’er wasn’t willing to stand by and watch him die either.

“Do you know where they’re dining?” She stepped forward to follow.

“Drunken Moon Pavilion.” Zhang Zhicheng tightened his grip on the sword in his hand.

“Let’s go together, then.” Feng Jiu’er’s crescent brows lifted as she passed by Zhang Zhicheng.

“Come on, stop dawdling like an old woman!”