The moon hung like a hook, dusk deepened, and cold wind made the branches in the desolate back courtyard rustle. Cold ravens perched on the treetops, cawed twice, flapped their wings and disappeared into the night sky.

A maid carrying a laundry basket hurried through the courtyard. Hearing a muffled “thump” from the courtyard well, she turned back in surprise. Rustling sounds came from the darkness, along with faint cat calls. Thinking it must be stray cats from outside coming in to catch mice, the maid pulled her clothes tighter, feeling the courtyard eerily ghostly, and quickened her pace to leave in haste.

Outside the pear garden, Lian Qiao held a large paper bag in her hands, saying happily to Jiang Ruan beside her: “Today little Yuan brought some lily pastries bought from outside, saying they taste extremely good. When we return to the room, Miss should try a few pieces.”

Jiang Ruan nodded, then looked up at the sky. Dark clouds covered most of the moon, the light outside was misty, with only a few dim red lanterns along the path—festive colors amid the cold desolation, adding several degrees of eeriness to the night.

Lian Qiao followed Jiang Ruan’s gaze and thought: “It’s getting dark so early, and it’s grown cold outside. Miss should be careful not to catch a chill.”

“Dark moon and high wind—a night for murder,” Jiang Ruan suddenly smiled: “What a fine scene indeed.”

These words were strange. Lian Qiao looked over in confusion, but saw someone hurrying toward them through the darkness. When they drew near, she could see clearly it was actually Chen Zhao.

Chen Zhao also saw the two of them and hastily stopped. Jiang Ruan nodded slightly in acknowledgment.

Chen Zhao bowed: “Miss.”

Lian Qiao nervously stepped in front of Jiang Ruan. In this pitch darkness, encountering this person might lead to some accident.

Jiang Ruan’s gaze slid from Chen Zhao’s tense expression to his exposed neck, where a bright red nail mark was particularly striking, though Chen Zhao himself was completely unaware. Jiang Ruan’s lips curved upward, but she said nothing, only stared at him meaningfully.

Under the pale moonlight, Jiang Ruan’s features reflected by the lamplight gained several degrees of demonic air, as if she had just grown into a blood-sucking sprite among flowers under the moon. Though clearly a tender face, she seemed like a demon that had lived for ages, looking down at all living beings struggling in the mortal world. Her seductive eyes, seeming to smile yet not smile, locked onto Chen Zhao. Chen Zhao felt that being stared at by those eyes was like having his soul hooked away. But looking again, it seemed like a deep abyss, with a kind of heart-palpitating fear. This alternating hot and cold feeling finally merged before his eyes into a slight smile at the corners of Jiang Ruan’s red lips.

Chen Zhao gritted his teeth, and suddenly a spark flashed in his eyes. Thinking that it was because of Jiang Ruan that he had gotten entangled with Chun Ying—if not for her, he wouldn’t have needed to kill. Now that he had killed someone, Jiang Ruan still remained perfectly fine where she was. Thinking it over filled him with unwillingness—how could he lose both his wife and his soldiers?

Catching the wolf-like look in Chen Zhao’s eyes, Jiang Ruan glanced at Lian Qiao and said lightly: “Let’s go. In this pitch darkness, we shouldn’t attract any unclean things.”

Chen Zhao’s body stiffened, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head, instantly driving away all the restless heat in his heart. He felt gusts of cold wind, and Chun Ying’s wide-open eyes before death appeared before him. Chen Zhao shivered violently. When he came to his senses, Jiang Ruan and her companion had already walked far away. He clenched his fists and left in anger.

When the two returned to their room, Lian Qiao had just set down the lily pastries when Bai Zhi hurried over, her expression full of tension: “Miss…”

Jiang Ruan waved her hand, signaling Lian Qiao to close the door, then sat down by the bed: “What is it?”

“Chun Ying is dead!” Bai Zhi said.

“What?” Lian Qiao was surprised: “How did she die?”

“Chen Zhao was quite decisive,” Jiang Ruan sneered: “But Chun Ying was foolish.”

Seeing Jiang Ruan’s composed expression without a trace of surprise, Bai Zhi was stunned: “Miss… already knew?”

“Chen Zhao has a violent temperament, Chun Ying is domineering. The two were bound to have conflicts. I originally wanted to use their disputes to create trouble, but didn’t expect Chen Zhao to be so ruthless as to kill to silence her.” Jiang Ruan said indifferently: “But Chun Ying also brought this upon herself.”

Lian Qiao frowned: “That Chen Zhao really isn’t a good person—to be so ungrateful. But Chun Ying demanding silver from him was like seeking skin from a tiger. Losing her life was deserved!”

Bai Zhi somewhat disagreed: “After all, it’s a human life. This Chen Zhao is too terrifying. Fortunately Miss is clever, otherwise today would be our great disaster.”

“How did you learn of this?” Jiang Ruan asked Bai Zhi.

Bai Zhi paused, then said softly: “Qiu Yan told me. She said she personally witnessed Chen Zhao kill someone.”

“Qiu Yan?” Jiang Ruan raised an eyebrow: “A clever person.”

“Miss, now that Chun Ying is dead, it has nothing to do with us, right? Chen Zhao killed someone—surely this can’t just pass by like this?”

“Chen Zhao has buried a seed of disaster for himself.” Jiang Ruan chuckled: “Without us taking initiative, soon someone will inform on him, and the matter will be exposed.”

Lian Qiao said: “This servant always feels somewhat uneasy, always feeling this matter isn’t so simple. Though Chun Ying’s death wasn’t our intention, it still has some connection to us.”

Jiang Ruan casually picked up a book from the table: “What is there to fear? Their private affair led to conflict and murder—how could that be related to me? Wanting to splash dirty water on me wouldn’t be easy either. They can hardly say I forced the two of them to have an affair. If they want to investigate, let them investigate freely—what can they discover?”

Lian Qiao slapped her forehead: “Right! This servant was confused. We never expected this matter—what relation does it have to us? Chun Ying and Chen Zhao had no friendship with us. Even if officers come, we can hold our heads high!”

Thus reassured, Bai Zhi and Lian Qiao relaxed and went to fetch hot water. Jiang Ruan sat under the oil lamp, slowly turning pages, but her gaze fell elsewhere.

She had lied. Chun Ying’s death didn’t surprise her because she had long known this outcome.

Everyone has their own weaknesses and bottom lines. Chen Zhao was violent and suspicious. Chun Ying’s repeated demands would only exhaust his patience, making him no longer believe Chun Ying would ever be satisfied. Dissatisfaction would gradually accumulate until reaching a critical point. When anger and guilt reached an extreme, Chen Zhao’s inherent violence would be triggered—killing was a natural progression. To bring all this about also required Chun Ying’s cooperation. Chun Ying’s greed was innate—with an opportunity to get something for nothing, she wouldn’t give up.

As for what Jiang Ruan herself had done, it was merely having Bai Zhi bribe several servants to “inadvertently” mention Chun Ying’s cunning and insatiable greed in front of Chen Zhao.

With the right time, place, and people, if Chun Ying didn’t die, she would still have to die.

But such words she absolutely could not tell her two maids. In their eyes, she was only a fallen young lady forced to extremes who rose up in resistance—fundamentally still kind. Only she herself knew what kind of rotten heart lay beneath this skin.