Zhou Ting sent Chao Yisong to South Huai Street to check whether Ni Su had returned home, while he himself led people to bring back the herb woman Yang Shi, the couple who had hidden her, and the few surviving assassins who had attempted to kill Yang Shi—all to the Night Watch Bureau.

“Young Master Zhou, they all had poison hidden in their teeth.” A subordinate officer pointed at the ground where several bloody teeth were mixed with extremely small medicine pellets.

Since the last time the Guangning Prefecture jailer committed suicide by poison, the Night Watch Bureau had been more cautious about such matters.

Zhou Ting glanced at them, then turned back to see several secretarial officers rushing into the torture chamber carrying books and writing materials. He asked the subordinate officer beside him, “Is the Commissioner inside?”

That subordinate officer answered quietly, “Yes, the Commissioner also just arrived not long ago. I heard that Master Lin inside is about to confess.”

That Master Lin was an official from the Transcription Bureau, also one of the officials involved in the winter examination case.

He was about to confess?

Hearing this, Zhou Ting looked toward the candlelight spreading from the torture chamber.

“Master Lin, were the examination papers of Ni Qinglan and the others truly destroyed by your own hand?” Night Watch Bureau Commissioner Han Qing sat in a chair, gesturing for the secretarial officers to write down testimony.

“Yes…”

As soon as Lin Yu spoke, he spat out a mouthful of blood. His clothes were already soaked with fresh blood. His entire body was in spasms.

“That sealing official surnamed Yan was the last one responsible for collecting all the examination papers. He said someone had informed him beforehand that the person committing fraud mentioned the ancient place name ‘Fenglin Island’ in their examination paper, so he could recognize that person’s paper. As for Ni Qinglan, he had recognized Ni Qinglan’s handwriting beforehand. Taking advantage of when Master Jin Xiang wasn’t there, he risked examining the papers Jin hadn’t finished transcribing and noted down fragments. Afterward, he collected the papers transcribed by other sealing officials, then secretly retranscribed Ni Qinglan’s and that person’s papers and sent them to the Transcription Bureau, delivering them into your hands.”

Han Qing blew on the tea foam at the bowl’s rim.

According to Master Jin Xiang’s previous testimony, because there was one examination paper with not only excellent handwriting but also beautifully written content, Master Jin Xiang had an impression of that paper.

Precisely because of this, while delivering papers for a colleague, he discovered that paper had been retranscribed.

When Master Jin Xiang finished mapping and returned to the capital, hearing that an examination candidate named Ni Qinglan had died, he guessed that paper likely had major problems.

The winter examination didn’t have just one sealing official. Han Qing had them all leave handwriting samples for Master Jin Xiang to identify, but because someone deliberately concealed their brush style, it wasn’t smooth at first.

Not until Zhou Ting searched the sealing officials’ homes for their personal writings or documents and asked Master Jin Xiang to compare them.

Only then did they expose that sealing official surnamed Yan.

Using that sealing official surnamed Yan as the breakthrough point and expending considerable effort, they finally caught this Master Lin from the Transcription Bureau by his weak spot.

“Correct,”

Lin Yu coughed violently several times. “That sealing official had blank examination papers with names already concealed—placed into the examination hall beforehand by someone else. He and I only knew that Ni Qinglan was the person they had selected. As for who the actual fraud perpetrator was, we didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Only later when His Majesty changed his mind and decided to add a palace examination, I had no choice but to take their two papers along with some others’ and, taking advantage of those two days of dry weather when the Transcription Bureau caught fire, burn them all together.”

“Master Lin, you truly are confused,” Han Qing set his tea bowl down on the table with a cold laugh. “Do you think His Majesty’s stipend isn’t enough for you? Where did you get such audacity to commit corruption in this matter? Did you think if you refused to speak or admit anything, counting on those censors in the Censorate to cry injustice for you, this matter could be settled?”

“As long as His Majesty’s edict stands, this servant isn’t afraid of them.”

Han Qing sat upright, glaring at him. “Speak then, who instructed you? This servant guesses you can’t withstand these punishments much longer either.”

These past days at the Night Watch Bureau, Lin Yu had experienced what it truly meant to wish for death over life. No matter how sharp one’s temperament, it would be ground down by the punishments here. He gasped with difficulty:

“Du Cong.”

Dawn broke in the east. Rain fell continuously.

Du Cong had sat withered in his study almost the entire night. Since the Night Watch Bureau had taken away all officials involved in the winter examination case, he had hardly slept a complete night.

The sky wasn’t yet clear. Du Cong watched as an attendant led a person wearing a straw rain cape up the steps. The attendant withdrew. That person entered but didn’t remove his bamboo hat, only bowing to him from within that dim shadow: “Master Du.”

“What did he say?”

Du Cong remained seated in his chair.

That person didn’t raise his head, only saying, “My master has only one message for you—fifteen years of wealth and honor, you’ve surely gotten your money’s worth, haven’t you?”

Du Cong’s fingers suddenly curled.

That person truly only conveyed this one message, then immediately turned to leave, disappearing into the rain curtain.

The rain sounds further accentuated the deathly silence within the study.

Du Cong’s expression was defeated as he sat blankly before his desk.

——

South Huai Street didn’t have any food stalls selling breakfast. Ni Su had no choice but to take her umbrella to a neighboring street, requesting some steamed buns at a food stall with an oilcloth canopy.

“That time I encountered bandits, I couldn’t see clearly from inside the carriage. When you killed them, you didn’t use your techniques, did you?” Rain struck the umbrella edge with endless pattering sounds.

“If I killed with techniques, I would certainly be severely punished.”

In the rain and mist, Xu Hexue walked alongside her, his figure sometimes dense, sometimes faint.

“When did you start learning martial arts?”

Last night Ni Su had personally witnessed his techniques. Only then did she truly realize that beneath his seemingly frail and thin frame, he also harbored a completely different kind of sharp edge.

“In early childhood, when I held a brush, I also had to hold a sword,”

Xu Hexue looked up, glancing at the umbrella edge she held over his head. “Such was my family’s instruction.”

Later when he traveled to Yun Jing with his mother and elder brother, no one in the family remembered those rules so clearly anymore. But in these two matters of scholarly cultivation and martial practice, he could be said to have never neglected them.

Speaking thus, the two were about to exit the street when suddenly a figure crashed straight toward them through the rain. Xu Hexue reacted extremely quickly, immediately grasping Ni Su’s wrist and pulling her back several steps.

Rain droplets brought up by that person’s sleeve pattered onto the oil paper package in Ni Su’s hand. His mud-stained hand grasped at empty air, stumbling and falling to the ground.

The youth in the muddy rain was about twenty years old. His clothes were ragged, his complexion deathly pale, thin as skin and bones. Seeing such a pair of eyes on him, Ni Su couldn’t help but be startled.

Ordinary people’s pupils were absolutely not this large.

The wrapped cloth binding loosened somewhat, revealing his hairless head—he didn’t even have eyebrows.

Somehow, Ni Su felt his gaze seemed to pause for a moment beside her.

Ni Su took out two steamed buns from the oil paper package and tentatively offered them to him.

That youth showed not the slightest hesitation, reaching out to grab her buns. Getting up from the muddy ground, he turned and ran.

“He looks like he’s suffering from some serious illness.”

Ni Su watched that person’s retreating figure.

“It’s not illness.”

Xu Hexue said.

“How do you know?” Hearing this, Ni Su turned to face him.

The morning mist and rain submerged that youth’s form. Xu Hexue met her gaze: “He saw me.”

“Then he… is also a ghost spirit?”

Ni Su was astonished.

But if he were a ghost spirit, he shouldn’t need this food to satisfy his hunger.

Xu Hexue shook his head. “He has no body hair, his pupils differ from ordinary people. He’s not a ghost spirit, but rather—a ghost-born child.”

Ni Su nearly dropped her buns.

Wasn’t that the offspring of a human and a ghost spirit?

The rain势 eased considerably. The youth rushed through streets and alleys, clutching two steamed buns tightly in his hand. Running to shelter under eaves, crouching behind a pile of miscellaneous items, he only then slowly began gnawing at the buns.

His eyes stared fixedly at the oilcloth canopy opposite.

The fragrance of wonton soup teased his nostrils. He sniffed forcefully, finishing the cold buns in two or three bites. Just then, hearing the rumbling sound of a carriage approaching, his pitch-black pupils moved slightly. He saw that carriage stop steadily before the wonton stall. The first to emerge from the carriage was an elder who appeared to be an attendant.

He first opened an umbrella and descended, then reached to help the simply dressed, white-haired elder in the carriage: “Sir, please be careful.”

The youth watched through the rain curtain as the attendant helped the elder down from the carriage. Looking at that elder, he scratched his head. After quite a while, he carefully examined that carriage again.

On the lantern hanging from the carriage eaves was prominently a character: “Zhang.”

“Today the rain is heavy. You still have to enter the palace. Doesn’t the palace have food? Why must you come here?” The attendant chattered.

“All these years, I have no attachment to Yun Jing except for the wontons here, which are different,” Zhang Jing was helped to sit at the innermost part of the oilcloth canopy. He examined the surroundings. “This stall has been here for over ten years and is still here. That’s truly not easy.”

“This servant will go order you a bowl.”

The attendant spoke, then went to find the stall owner.

“Also get some pickled vegetables.”

Zhang Jing coughed twice and added instructions.

That stall owner was a man of thirty or forty years, very nimble with his hands. He quickly cooked a bowl of wontons. The attendant brought the wontons and pickled vegetables before Zhang Jing, then handed him a spoon: “This servant asked—he’s the original stall owner’s son. You taste it. The flavor should be about the same.”

Zhang Jing received the spoon. After just one sip of soup, his expression relaxed considerably. He nodded: “Indeed it’s the same.”

“Scholar He should arrive in a moment. With him accompanying you, it will be more secure.”

The attendant glanced outside the oilcloth canopy and said to Zhang Jing.

Zhang Jing ate wontons with pickled vegetables and snorted. “I’m not so old I can’t move. How would taking a few steps require him watching over me constantly?”

“Sir, Scholar He and the others haven’t seen you, their teacher, for so many years. Now wanting to be in your presence every day—what’s wrong with that? They’re being thoughtful. You should be gratified.” The attendant had just finished speaking with a smile when he heard some commotion outside the oilcloth canopy. Turning his head, he saw the two servant boys driving the carriage had stopped a youth outside.

“Why won’t you let him enter?”

Zhang Jing set down his spoon heavily.

The attendant quickly left the oilcloth canopy, frowning as he asked those two servant boys, “Why are you grabbing him?”

“Attendant, he doesn’t look like someone coming to eat wontons. I see his eyes staring straight at our Master Zhang. He looks very strange!” One servant boy said.

The attendant just shifted his gaze to that youth’s face and couldn’t help but be startled by those eyes. The youth suddenly broke free of those two servant boys. A withered hand fumbled in his chest, producing a letter.

“For Master Zhang.”

He even performed a bow, though like a stiff puppet, looking rather comical.

The attendant only saw this person was thoroughly disheveled yet the letter in his hand wasn’t dampened in the slightest and was smooth and unwrinkled. He thought about it and still accepted it.

“Jiarong.”

Hearing Zhang Jing call, the attendant quickly turned around.

The youth kept staring at that attendant. Seeing him deliver that letter to Zhang Jing, he seemed relieved. Taking advantage of those two servant boys’ inattention, he quickly ran into the rain curtain.

“Sir, it’s said to be for you, but beyond that, he said nothing at all.” The attendant heard the servant boys’ alarmed cries. Turning back, he saw that youth had already disappeared. His heart felt even stranger.

Zhang Jing took out the letter to look. His calm expression was like being suddenly slashed by a sharp blade. His eyes fixed on every word and sentence on the paper. His complexion became deathly pale and bloodless.

The attendant watched Zhang Jing suddenly stand up, even forgetting his cane, stumbling forward a few steps about to fall. He quickly went to support him. “Sir, what’s wrong with you?”

Zhang Jing struggled to walk outside the oilcloth canopy. His rapid breathing brought up turbid sounds from his throat and lungs. He stared fixedly at the two people: “Where did he come from?!”

One person honestly answered, “This subordinate asked. He only said he came from Yongzhou.”

Yongzhou.

These two words caused Zhang Jing’s vision to darken again, his chest trembling. He crumpled that letter into a ball and suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Sir!”

The attendant was shocked and alarmed.

Hanlin Academy Scholar He Tong, who had just arrived, also happened to witness this scene. He immediately dropped his umbrella and rushed over:

“Teacher!”