A private investigation, especially one that involved sneaking around someone else’s ancestral burial grounds, carried the real risk of attracting unnecessary trouble the moment anyone spotted you. A stranger catching you there was one thing, but if it turned out to be a government runner or a member of the Chen clan — that could get complicated.

Zhù San glanced quickly at the figure approaching. Not a government runner — no uniform. That alone was enough to settle her nerves somewhat. Then she waited as the person who had been shouting and hollering in someone else’s ancestral cemetery came closer.

That square one — the one who was as wide as he was tall!

Jin Liang, wasn’t it?

Jin Liang drew near, his expression equally puzzled. “What’s a peddler doing out here? I have questions for you!”

That tone immediately rubbed Zhù San the wrong way. Even so, Jin Liang didn’t seem to have recognized her, so she simply gave him a cold, flat look, bent down to pick up her carrying pole, and walked away.

She hadn’t made it two steps before Jin Liang spurred his horse to cut her off. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Zhù San backed up a few paces and rolled her eyes at him. In her experience, most people who saw her do that either took her for a rough, unruly youth not worth the bother and softened their tone, or they got genuinely furious and matched her head-on. Either way, once someone’s emotions were stirred up, they became easier to handle. The second type, in fact, was even better for drawing out information.

Jin Liang was neither.

He urged his horse forward and leaned down to grab her — and to her own astonishment, with all her agility, she only managed to dodge halfway.

Half his palm struck hard across Zhù San’s shoulder. A flicker of surprise passed through Jin Liang’s eyes before his body reacted faster than his mind: he reined the horse around in a tight circle, then — thwap! — vaulted clean off the saddle and launched himself at her. A man of his build had no business being that nimble, yet he landed squarely beside her. Zhù San, hindered by her loaded carrying pole, swung it at him. But her strength wasn’t enough — Jin Liang batted the pole away with a single forceful sweep.

In the brief back-and-forth between them, several other riders closed in and surrounded her.

And so Zhù San found herself hauled before the one they called “Seventh Young Master.” She hadn’t expected Jin Liang to move like that, and she cursed her bad luck inwardly, already raising her guard. Jin Liang marched her forward in great strides, gripping her by the collar like a person carrying a small chicken, lifting her a little higher with each step to peer at her face.

When he set her down, something dawned on Jin Liang. “Seventh Young Master, this little rascal runs at the sight of anyone — I’ve brought him back. Wait — isn’t this the same kid from the tea shelter the day before yesterday? Hey, why have you changed your clothes?!”

He had been anything but courteous while hauling her along like poultry, but the moment he recognized someone he’d met before, his manner softened considerably. A thought crossed his mind: could this be a petty thief, come to pick through the remains of whatever was here? Still, even a thief had done him a good turn. He owed the kid a debt of gratitude, so there was no need to be too harsh.

When Zhù San had spotted Jin Liang, she had already guessed that “Seventh Young Master” was probably nearby. Now, face to face with him, she couldn’t help but wonder about his identity. The Chen family’s burial grounds, accompanied by bodyguards of this caliber, and the name “Seventh Young Master” — please don’t tell her this man was actually a Chen relative.

Zhù San watched “Seventh Young Master” with wariness.

He sat astride his horse, looking down at her from above, yet spoke with perfect ease. “It’s you again? Last time you left in such a hurry, I didn’t even have a chance to thank you.”

Zhù San blinked, still guarded. “And who are you?”

Jin Liang said, “You little brat — what appalling manners!”

“Seventh Young Master” waved him off before he could continue, and — to her surprise — actually answered her. “Zheng, the seventh.”

“Not Chen?”

Zheng the Seventh smiled pleasantly. “Why would I be Chen?”

“Then what brings you here, not being Chen?”

“You’re here as well, and you’re not Chen either. Why are you here?”

Zhù San found herself with absolutely no comeback to that. She choked on her own retort for a moment, then said, “Curiosity. That a problem?”

Zheng the Seventh smiled. “Curious enough to come to the Chen family’s burial grounds? So you did know this was their cemetery?” He had come precisely to look for the Chen family’s burial site, and had spotted this figure in the distance for the exact purpose of calling them over to ask. Now he had his answer without needing to ask directly — this was indeed the Chen family’s cemetery.

Zhù San said, “It says ‘Chen’ in big characters on the gravestone. And what about you? Why did you come?” This Zheng the Seventh was a man steeped in aristocratic ease from head to toe — the picture of someone accustomed to comfort and luxury, finer than any wealthy young gentleman she had ever seen. He certainly didn’t look like someone who would come poking around burial grounds. That much, at least, she was confident she could read.

Zheng the Seventh said, “Chancellor Chen used to lecture before he became chancellor. I heard his lessons once. I’m traveling away from the capital this time, so I came to pay my respects.”

Zhù San paused. “Oh.”

Zheng the Seventh noticed how the boyish truculence had drained from her face and given way to something quieter and gentler. He was about to press her further when she spoke first: “Then your timing… is rather poor. His family is dealing with something at the moment. If you enter the city and hear things, don’t rush to act — observe first.”

The voice still carried a trace of youthful roughness, but the tone was strangely old for its age — and somehow, beneath it all, she could hear a note of genuine concern. Zheng the Seventh smiled. “Oh? Since you clearly know something, tell me. What I ought to know, I’ll know sooner or later — knowing earlier is better than knowing later, isn’t it?”

Zhù San looked down at the tips of her shoes and said, “I heard that Chen Family’s second son cursed his elder brother. The prefecture has arrested quite a few monks, Daoist priests, and spirit mediums, and they haven’t been released yet — who knows what they’ve managed to get out of them. I said ‘curious’ because I heard they were supposed to perform the ritual right here, at the Chen family’s ancestral grave.”

Zheng the Seventh sighed. “I already knew about this before I arrived — it’s not exactly news to me. What were you curious about?”

“Think about it — anyone who resorts to cursing someone through their ancestral burial ground is wishing ruin on an entire family line. But these two men are brothers. What kind of curse only kills one and spares the other?”

The angle was so unexpected it stopped Zheng the Seventh cold. He had come here simply to see if there was any evidence, any irregularity in the curse story. He hadn’t imagined this person’s entry point would be so strange. And yet, when he thought carefully about it, the reasoning held. Even if someone had lost their mind entirely and wanted to curse their elder brother, were there no wooden effigies to use? Did they not know the elder brother’s birth date and birth hour? Besides, Chen the Elder was back in their hometown while Chen the Second — the beloved son of the chancellor’s second wife — had been pampered in the capital his entire life. Why would he travel all this way?

Zheng the Seventh said, “You understand yin and yang, the five elements?”

Zhù San went on guard, glanced down at her own fingertips, and said, “No, no one’s ever taught me. I heard about this the other day and got curious, so I thought I’d come have a look. Ah — now that you know all of it, don’t linger here. Go back. There’s too much trouble in this place. Don’t wade into these muddy waters. It’s someone else’s family affairs. Your teacher…”

Zheng the Seventh felt a pang. He too let out a breath. “Still, there’s a bond of half-a-teacher between us. Knowing what I know, how can I pretend I don’t?”

Zhù San looked at him. “Well, then you take your time looking.” She turned to go.

Zheng the Seventh dismounted. “A moment, young friend — may I know your name?”

Zhù San said, “I don’t know either. Don’t ask me again.”

Zheng the Seventh followed her at an unhurried pace. “Are you from around here, young friend?”

“More or less.”

“I’ve just arrived. If I run into something I don’t understand, I wouldn’t know where to find you to ask for guidance.”

Zhù San grew more guarded, turning to look at him. “Are you really going to get involved in this?”

Zheng the Seventh smiled. “I’ve grown curious myself.”

Zhù San said nothing more. She walked to where her carrying pole lay, righted the overturned basket, retied the rope around the pole, and settled it across her shoulders. “Then you carry on.”

Zheng the Seventh was unperturbed. “So you’ve already spotted something?”

“What?”

“Tell me. I won’t tell the prefecture. Agreed?”

Zhù San thought for a moment, then stretched out her hand with the palm facing up. Zheng the Seventh looked genuinely startled. “Hmm?” Jin Liang murmured under his breath, “You little wretch — now you’re demanding money!”

Zhù San said, “Unlike you two, I have to worry about where my next meal comes from.”

But Zheng the Seventh was remarkably generous — he untied his silver pouch and placed it in her hand.

Zhù San’s hand dipped under the weight. She was startled: the craftsmanship of this pouch was exceptional — finer even than the accessories the prefecture had given her to wear when they’d dressed her up to deal with that short-lived general. Truly a capital-born aristocrat. She worked the knot open and looked inside: both gold and silver ingots, all small, each shaped into a different decorative form.

She considered for a moment. She picked out one small gold lotus pod and one small silver ingot, closed her fingers around them, retied the pouch strings, and pushed it back to Zheng the Seventh. “What I have to say is this: there was no curse ritual here at all — just a bunch of swindlers. I only came for the first time today. It rained before, so whatever traces they left are mostly gone, but there are some ash marks from burning. There — and there — and there. Does any of it frighten you? If there really were something sinister, you would feel it in your gut the moment you saw it. I didn’t feel frightened at all. I think they were putting on a show to fool Chen the Second.”

Zheng the Seventh listened closely, following the direction of her pointing finger to survey several spots. Jin Liang and the others rushed over to check, then came sprinting back and nodded at him in confirmation.

Zhù San sighed. “Go back. Don’t go visit your two fellow students either. If you genuinely care about your teacher, go back and see your teacher himself, and tell him… this place has been trodden all over and disturbed. When he has the energy, come back and tend to the grave properly.”

Zheng the Seventh heard the strangeness in her words but kept his expression unchanged, smiling pleasantly. “Thank you, young friend. I happen to have brought several things from home to spend on the road or give as gifts — since I’m heading back now, there’s no need to carry them home again. I have a few bolts of satin in decent colors I’d like to give to your mother.”

Zhù San went very still inside, suppressing any outward reaction. She held up the gold and silver in her hand and gave them a small shake. “I only take what I’m owed.” She picked up her carrying pole and walked.

She hadn’t even made it a few steps before Zheng the Seventh said, in a voice utterly devoid of urgency: “Take her.”

Zhù San was dumbstruck. “What?”

Her guard had been entirely focused on the moment before she walked away. Once she had the pole across her shoulders and ten paces behind her, she would have considered herself safe. She had not remotely anticipated that Zheng the Seventh would suddenly say that.

What kind of people were these?!

After the first instant of shock, Zhù San steadied herself. “What are you doing? Here — take it back.” She produced the gold and silver.

Zheng the Seventh smiled. “They’re yours — once I give something, I don’t take it back. Jin Liang, bring him along.”

Jin Liang grabbed Zhù San and lifted her onto the horse. This was the first time in Zhù San’s life she had ever been on a horse — and it was face-down across the saddle, an undignified slung position. Her carrying pole was taken up by one of the other attendants, and not even the rope was left behind.

The party rode like the wind for twenty li before stopping at a relay station. When those inside saw them arrive, someone called out: “They’re here! Ah… no, not from the direction of the capital, from the prefecture — not them!”

After being set down from the horse, Zhù San shook her head to clear it. As her senses slowly returned, she caught Jin Liang murmuring in her ear: “When Seventh Young Master questions you in a moment, answer truthfully. Don’t try to deceive him. Even if you’ve done something bad in the past, confess it honestly — there’s still a chance to make a fresh start. You’re young. Don’t ruin yourself.”

Zhù San thought: You people are a pack of black-hearted foxes!

Jin Liang handed Zhù San off to someone else to watch, then produced a token for the station-master. The station-master said, “It’s not that I won’t give you the main rooms, sir — those rooms are reserved for the imperial envoy. His excellency should arrive within two or three days. If you could please…”

Jin Liang glanced at Zheng the Seventh. The most black-hearted fox of all was in perfectly good spirits. He gave a nod. Jin Liang said, “Enough talk! Find us a clean courtyard and be done with it!”

The station-master promptly led them to a side courtyard. Zhù San stared in disbelief — they were officials? And Jin Liang deferred to Zheng the Seventh on everything. This Zheng the Seventh — just who was he?

Jin Liang was clearly a trained fighter; that much Zhù San could tell. But his air of officialdom was so faint as to be almost invisible, only surfacing briefly when the station-master had spoken to them. Zheng the Seventh, on the other hand, had been completely opaque to Zhù San. She had taken him for the son of some noble or official family — the man himself being, perhaps, a private individual of some kind — and found him deceptively ordinary. He had put her on guard, yes, but she had truly never imagined he would have ties to officialdom.

The officials Zhù San had encountered could be counted on one hand. She had met far more of the clerical underlings — the petty functionaries — and this had given her a quiet little pride: what were officials, after all? Their character was poor and their minds were not much sharper. The underlings had a certain dark cunning, but they only wallowed in their small muddy ponds. Between these two types, Zhù San was confident she had figured out the patterns — not that she understood them completely, but at least she could fool them without leaving traces.

Now that she had fallen into Jin Liang and Zheng the Seventh’s hands, she was beginning to regret it. What the hell — she had miscalculated!

As she was dragged before Zheng the Seventh, she was already examining herself: these past days, though the path had been bumpy, she had always managed to slip through. She had gotten arrogant. She had talked too much. This would not do. Not at all.

“Have you worked out how to handle me yet?” Zheng the Seventh’s voice was as even and mild as ever.

Zhù San suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and rubbed the tips of her shoes against each other.