Yan Qing let out a long, heavy sigh. “If this is the truth of the matter, then the likelihood that she came to take revenge on the Shi family is quite high. I could never figure it out before — Qian Lan has the Qian family backing her, so she lacks nothing financially. Mrs. Qian treats her like a true daughter, and by marrying the Commander, she lacks nothing in terms of status either. Who wouldn’t give her the respect of addressing her as Commander’s Wife? So what was her purpose in entering the Shi household? Now it’s becoming clearer: her goal was to take the Commander’s life, and at the same time to throw the Shi household into utter chaos — even its ultimate ruin. She wants to make the Shi family end up like the Chen family once did: the household shattered, the family destroyed.”

“Time Guang knew all this and still chose to work with her?”

“Shi Guang has his own objectives — and besides, he’s confident he can make use of Qian Lan and then dispose of her once she’s served her purpose.”

Long Yunxiao listened and was silent for a moment.

“Long Yunxiao, in your view, should Qian Lan take revenge on the Shi family?”

“What do you think?”

“If the Commander really did cause Chen Fangfang’s death and thus brought about the destruction of the Chen household, then Qian Lan’s desire to avenge her sister and her parents is perfectly human,” Yan Qing said. “But if she harms Shi Ting or my mother in pursuit of that revenge, I will absolutely not forgive her — not out of pity, not for any reason. I will fight her to the very end. Everyone has a past and secrets others don’t know, but that’s no excuse to harm the innocent. Neither Shi Ting nor I have ever wronged her.”

Long Yunxiao listened to her speak, and his brow curved. “No matter what you decide to do, my answer is the same as always — I will always stand on your side.”

Whether you are right or wrong, whether you are good or wicked — he would go without hesitation, untroubled by others’ scorn or reproach. As long as she needed him, he didn’t mind being the villain, the hypocrite.

“Thank you, Long Yunxiao,” Yan Qing said, warmth spreading through her.

“No need for thanks when it comes to me.”

“I still have to say it.” Yan Qing blinked at him playfully. “This time, if I hadn’t run into you, I don’t know how long all this investigation would have taken.”

“Right — you want to find Lin Zhi’s remains. Is that to confirm the cause of his death?”

Yan Qing nodded. “Whether or not it was the Commander’s people who killed Lin Zhi still has no solid evidence. Even what happened to Chen Fangfang after the Commander took her away — it all rests on conjecture.”

“You want to prove the Commander is innocent?”

“Not exactly to prove his innocence — just to find the truth.”

“Then I will do everything in my power to help you find it.”

Long Yunxiao’s resolute tone filled Yan Qing with confidence as well. She believed that with Long Yunxiao’s help, the truth would soon rise to the surface.

And as she had hoped, Black Snake returned very quickly with news about Sister Zhang.

Sister Zhang was no longer living in West City Lane. Black Snake’s people made many inquiries before finding her in a secluded grove.

It was a dilapidated compound, a thatched cottage enclosed by a wooden fence. In the yard were a few scraggly chickens and ducks, and a scrawny dog lying listlessly by the gate — too lazy even to bark when visitors came in.

Yan Qing called out from outside the gate, but no one answered.

“Go in and look,” Long Yunxiao said, pushing open the low wooden door, which let out a grinding, jarring creak.

The listless dog raised its head with visible reluctance and gave one half-hearted bark.

Black Snake had said only a single woman lived here — a thin, frail, and slight old woman.

“Is anyone home?” Yan Qing walked to the doorway and peered inside. Just when she thought the owner must have gone out, an aged voice suddenly drifted out from the dark room.

“Who is it?”

Yan Qing was startled and instinctively stepped back.

“Careful.” Long Yunxiao quickly steadied her.

An old woman emerged from the shadows, her gaze cold and thin as she looked at the two of them. “Who are you? Who are you looking for? There’s only a lonely old widow here.”

“Are you Sister Zhang?” Yan Qing met the old woman’s eyes and felt a small jolt — though the woman’s eyes were cloudy, they held a veiled sharpness.

“I am,” Sister Zhang said, studying them with suspicion. “Who are you?”

“Sister Zhang, there are some things we’d like to ask you about. Would it be convenient to sit and talk?”

“Not convenient,” Sister Zhang refused without ceremony. “A lonely old widow like me has nothing to say and nothing to tell. I need to rest. You can go.”

Sister Zhang moved to see them off.

“Do you know Chen Lingling?” Seeing Sister Zhang was about to drive them away, Yan Qing quickly spoke up, then fixed her gaze on the old woman’s eyes.

A flicker of light crossed those otherwise lifeless eyes — then went still again.

“What do you want to say?”

“I only want to ask you about Chen Lingling.”

Sister Zhang lowered her eyes, then moved aside. “Come in.”

The room was darker than Yan Qing had expected. Only a sliver of light came through the window.

By that light, Yan Qing could make out a worn wooden bed, a table, and a few chairs that looked as though they would fall apart if anyone sat on them.

On the table sat a chipped teapot and two rough, plain teacups.

Yan Qing thought to herself: Sister Zhang had once been wet nurse to Chen Lingling, and the Chen family had been a prosperous household at the time. Yet here she was, living in such meager conditions.

What had the Chen family gone through after the death of the master and mistress? And what had Chen Lingling gone through?

“Sister Zhang, don’t you have a son?” Yan Qing could tell from the furnishings that this room had the feel of a solitary elder living alone. Only Sister Zhang seemed to live here.

But Xizi had said Sister Zhang’s son lived in West City Lane.

Sister Zhang heard this, and her gaze dimmed further. “Dead — all dead. Now it’s just me, a lonely old widow.”

Yan Qing noticed that many fragrance pouches were hanging throughout Sister Zhang’s room, and several of them looked remarkably similar in craft and pattern to ones she had seen at the White Cloud Convent.

She was almost certain that this Sister Zhang had an inextricable connection to Qian Lan.

Seeing Yan Qing looking at the pouches, Sister Zhang took two down and handed them over. “If you like them, these two are yours.”

She then took two blue ones and handed them to Long Yunxiao. “These are for strengthening the body and boosting vitality — suitable for a man to wear.”

“Thank you,” Long Yunxiao said, accepting them.

“Why are you asking about the Chen family?” Sister Zhang settled herself onto the rickety chair, which responded with a grating creak.

Yan Qing knew she couldn’t tell the truth, or Sister Zhang would certainly be guarded. So she improvised a story: “My father runs a spice business in Shun Cheng and had a good acquaintance with Master Chen. Later, due to the wars, my father stopped having dealings with this side of Huxi Town. Now that the world is at peace, my father thought of Master Chen again and asked me to come find out whether the master is still in Huxi Town. But when I arrived, I couldn’t find the Chen household anywhere. Now that I’ve managed to find you, it took considerable effort.”

Sister Zhang lowered her head and said nothing, her dry, withered fingers gently rubbing the hem of her garment. It was unclear whether she had taken any of this in.

Yan Qing set her fragrance pouch down on the table. “Sister Zhang, my father wants very much to know the present situation of the Chen family. Since you were the wet nurse of the second young lady of the Chen family, you must know something about the Chens — for instance, where the rest of the family is now, and how the Chen household came to vanish without a trace from Huxi Town?”

“You know the second young lady?” Sister Zhang suddenly raised her head, her gaze brightening sharply as she looked at Yan Qing.

“I’ve only heard my father mention her,” Yan Qing said. “I heard she was very gifted in music.”

“How did you find me?” Sister Zhang’s voice was low. “There shouldn’t be many people who know of me.”

“What happened to your son? How did he die?”

A flash of grief crossed Sister Zhang’s composed face. “That day, I ran out of the fragrant herbs for making the pouches and went out to buy more. When I came back, the house was on fire. My grandson was born with an illness and had been bedridden from a young age — someone always needed to be there to look after him. My son and daughter-in-law had stayed home to watch him.”

At this, a trace of emotion finally broke through Sister Zhang’s cold facade. “I wanted to rush in to save them, but the neighbors held me back. They said the fire had been burning for over an hour already and was so fierce that even a god inside would have been consumed.”

She let out a long sigh. “When the fire was out, I rushed in — but my son’s entire family was gone.”

Yan Qing noticed Sister Zhang’s hands, especially the palms — they bore severe burn scars. Judging by the degree of healing, she guessed the fire had occurred not long ago.

“Was it three months ago?” Yan Qing suddenly asked. “The fire at your son’s house — was it three months ago?”

“You — how do you know?” Sister Zhang looked at her with surprise.

Before Yan Qing could say anything more, she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. She pressed a hand against her temple involuntarily.

“Yan Qing.” Long Yunxiao noticed her discomfort. “What’s wrong? What’s hurting you?”

“My head — my head feels a little dizzy,” Yan Qing said. And then her mouth began to feel as if it were on fire, and her body, too, was gradually growing hot.

“Come and rest a moment,” Long Yunxiao said, supporting her to the side of the worn bed. “You’ve been running yourself ragged these past few days and haven’t gotten nearly enough rest. Now your body is protesting.”

Yan Qing shook her head and parted her dry lips, raising her hand and pointing behind him.

Long Yunxiao turned around — and found that Sister Zhang’s chair was empty. She was gone. A surge of alarm rose in his chest, and his instinct was to give chase. But looking at Yan Qing’s condition, he stopped without a second thought.

“I’ll go pour you some water,” Long Yunxiao said, laying her down on the bed to rest, then going over to pour water. But Sister Zhang’s teapot was bone dry. To get water, he would have to go outside to the water vat.

Just as Long Yunxiao picked up the teapot and was about to step out the door, an inexplicable wave of dizziness came over him as well, nearly making him lose his footing.