Ji Yinshu’s actions filled Song Zhi’s heart with gratitude.

He said, “Young master, if I, Song, can clear my name this time, you will be my benefactor for life. Even if I have to go through fire and water, I will spend my entire life trying to repay you.”

“Master Song, you’re being too serious. This case involves human life—whoever encountered it would surely offer help.”

“But regardless, you are my benefactor.” As he spoke, Song Zhi clasped his hands and bowed to her in salute.

Ji Yinshu immediately returned the courtesy. “Master Song, then I won’t disturb you further.”

Ji Yinshu then turned and left the prison.

Song Zhi could only watch her departure with his gaze.

Afterward, he returned to the spot where he had been sitting earlier, looking at the line of words he had written on the ground, and let out a mournful sigh.

He then straightened out his wrinkled clothes.

And sat down!

He picked up the somewhat damp, withered grass and began writing on the ground again.

Stroke by stroke.

Who knows what he was writing?

But after finishing, he looked up at the window before him and couldn’t help but smile.

He said aloud, “A scholar is utterly useless!”

That same phrase again.

Five years ago, when he gave up writing poetry to become a storyteller, his heart had actually been in pain!

No one knew what he had experienced five years ago.

Now, whenever he closed his eyes, he felt his heart being cut by knives.

…

The Zhao Family Troupe.

Troupe Master Tao had already returned from the yamen, but after returning, he had locked himself in his room the entire time.

By now, it was already dark.

The theater of the Zhao Family Troupe was filled with lit lanterns.

Ordinarily at this hour, it was the theater’s busiest time, packed with people, all there to watch the performance of “The Ghost Bride Buries Her Husband.”

But now—

Because of this skeleton case, everyone in the Zhao Family Troupe had stopped working.

Not a single commoner bought tickets to watch the performances.

Previously, the wildly popular “The Ghost Bride Buries Her Husband” had full houses at nearly every showing, with people willing to pay large sums for just one ticket.

At the time, the black market had driven prices up to several taels of silver.

Truly terrifying.

Now it was cold and deserted!

Only a gust of wind!

The people of the Zhao Family Troupe sat listlessly and dejectedly on the stage and in the audience seating area.

Everyone was sighing and moaning!

Several young women sat together complaining. “Ai, how did this happen?”

The white-clothed woman said, “What can we do? We happened to encounter this disaster. I wonder if Heaven has closed its eyes?”

The red-clothed woman said, “Now that someone’s died, and it’s such a chilling murder case, no one comes to watch the performances anymore. Even if we begged them to watch, no one would be willing.”

The blue-clothed woman beside them fearfully tugged at the red-clothed woman’s sleeve, saying, “Stop talking. I’ve been having nightmares these past two days, always dreaming of Wang Jun covered in blood standing on stage singing opera. I’ve been frightened awake several times.”

The red-clothed woman shook her off. “No matter how scared you are, are you as scared as Sister Xiao Qu? She was the first to see the skeleton in the yellow earth, and personally touched that human finger. She was scared out of her wits on the spot, and she’s still lying in bed now. Who knows how long it’ll take her to recover.”

A burly man at another table took up the conversation. “Xiao Qu is pitiful too, running into something like this. If it were us grown men, we’d probably be scared half to death too, let alone Xiao Qu, a young woman who’s usually too scared to even catch mice.” After finishing, he turned to ask the man across from him, “By the way, Old Gao, when Song Zhi came that day, weren’t you the first to see him? I saw you two exchange a few words. Did you notice anything wrong at the time?”

The person called Old Gao’s real name was Gao Dali. He had been performing clown roles in the Zhao Family Troupe for nearly ten years.

That day, he was also the one who told Song Zhi that Wang Jun was missing.

Gao Dali frowned and sighed, “How could I have noticed so much at the time? Master Song said he came to find Wang Jun. I asked him what it was about, and he said it was a small matter! So I told him Wang Jun wasn’t there. But… at that time, he was indeed carrying a bundle, and seemed afraid I’d see it. He deliberately hid it behind him several times. I didn’t ask further because I had other matters, so I left.”

A tall man at the table behind them chimed in, “I think that bundle contained the skeleton.”

Gao Dali said, “I can’t say for certain!”

“You’re just too honest. If it were me, I definitely would have asked.” The man propped one foot on a stool, cracking sunflower seeds with one hand, and suddenly noticed Gao Dali’s hands, asking, “What happened to your hands?”

Both of Gao Dali’s wrists were wrapped in white bandages. Previously they had been hidden inside his sleeves and couldn’t be seen, but now because his hands rested on the table, they were exposed.

He sighed, pulling his sleeves to cover them, saying, “What else could it be? Just training injuries from these past days.”

The so-called training was actually rehearsing!

The sunflower seed-eating man said, “Now that you mention it, my neck’s been aching too. Think about it—we put in so much effort for this play, worked ourselves to death, and now it’s all gone down the drain! Who knows if the Zhao Family Troupe can even continue. This is all Song Zhi’s fault. If it weren’t for him, where would all these problems come from? It’s infuriating. Look, even the troupe master has been angered into illness. He’s been lying in bed ever since returning from the yamen.”

So—

Someone asked, “Does this mean you all truly believe Master Song killed the person?”

“It must be him! Usually looks like a gentle scholar, who knew he’d be so vicious.”

At this moment—

A sharp, thin voice came from behind the stage, saying, “I think that Master Song had it all planned out long ago. He deliberately wrote this play, then intentionally killed Wang Jun.”

The person who emerged was none other than Zhang Xiaobai, the young male lead who replaced Wang Jun.

This person looked even more delicate than a woman.

His skin was so tender and supple it seemed water could be squeezed from it, and his face was even rouged with powder and lipstick applied, extremely alluring.

Moreover, his body was graceful—when he walked, he was far more seductive than a woman.

Those who didn’t know would truly think he was a woman!

And he had a beautiful voice, which was precisely why the troupe master wanted to use him to replace the already thirty-year-old Wang Jun.

He walked over, swaying his waist.

Someone said to him, “But Zhang Xiaobai, Wang Jun and Master Song didn’t know each other.”

“Do they need to announce it to the world whether they know each other or not?” Zhang Xiaobai said.

“By the way, they say the Master Ji that the yamen invited is a divine person who can determine cases by examining bones. In just two days’ time, he identified the skeleton’s identity and analyzed that the murderer had a grudge against Wang Jun. Even if Song Zhi knew Wang Jun, with Song Zhi’s temperament, how would he dare kill someone!”

Zhang Xiaobai snorted. “According to what you’re saying, you think Song Zhi isn’t the murderer at all?”

“Can’t say for certain.”

Zhang Xiaobai turned and sat in a chair to the side, using his hands to straighten his clean robe, crossing his legs elegantly.

Then he picked up the cup on top, took out a handkerchief and wiped the rim of the cup once over, only then pouring tea into it.

Truly a person who couldn’t tolerate even the slightest bit of dirt!