The madam frowned and strode swiftly toward the corner. Something suddenly fell to the ground behind her — the madam flinched at the sound and reflexively looked back. In the alley beside her, a tree branch swayed, and from it dropped a cat.

The cat landed nimbly, arched its back, called out twice, and quickly ran off. The madam patted her chest. “Just a cat — nearly scared me to death.”

She came around to the spot behind the wall and found it empty, nothing there but the rustle of the camphor tree.

The madam told herself she must have been too jumpy and was seeing things. The mute stood behind her, watching anxiously. The madam turned and the sight of him only made her angrier. “What are you staring at? Get back to work! I’m telling you — with important guests in the building right now, you keep well out of their way and don’t go disturbing anyone!”

The madam scolded her way back through the rear entrance, her voice growing distant. The Ming Huashang who had been hiding in the camphor tree could finally release a long, shaky breath. She looked beside her, and sincerely said, “Brother Xie, thank you.”

But when she got a clear look at the expression on the person beside her, she went quiet.

Xie Jichuan’s lashes were lowered, his gaze fixed downward, not a trace of warmth in it. Between his slender fingers he held a silver needle — the hidden weapon he had just used to startle the cat off the opposite wall, distracting the madam while buying them time to withdraw.

In Ming Huashang’s memory, Xie Jichuan was always smiling — cracking jokes or being brazenly shameless. He was never this cold, blank-faced young man. Ming Huashang was momentarily uncertain which version was the real one.

Ming Huazhang gave off coldness too, but his strong brows, bright eyes, and upright bone structure lent him an air of righteous gravity — cool and proud, but fundamentally noble. Xie Jichuan’s face in profile was finer, his jaw narrower — without a word or smile, he looked especially callous.

If Ming Huazhang was a glacier — imposing and unapproachable from a distance, yet drawing close revealed that glaciers melt to become rivers, gathering into the gentlest and most compassionate of forces — then Xie Jichuan was a flame of blue: warm and welcoming from afar, cold at the core once you came near.

In the blink of an eye, Xie Jichuan had reverted to the expression Ming Huashang knew well. He turned his head; warmth glimmered in his eyes. “Second little sister, you really are audacious. Your elder brother told you a thousand times not to go off alone — and here you’ve already gone to the Eastern Market by yourself and trailed the madam. Quite the ambitions.”

His eyes curved slightly as he teased her, the laughter in them close enough to reach out and touch — yet Ming Huashang felt it was nothing but a reflection in water, an image of flowers, dispersing at the first brush of contact.

Ming Huashang pressed her lips together and did not, as she usually would, toss a joke back. Instead she held out the object that had nearly exposed them both and which she had still refused to drop.

Xie Jichuan looked at it with a hint of surprise. “What’s this?”

“Breakfast,” Ming Huashang said. “I didn’t know what Brother Xie likes, so I brought the sweet crispy biscuits I enjoy — this bakery’s biscuits are fragrant and crisp and sweet, and should still be just right to eat now. I know Brother Xie is particular about cleanliness, so I specifically asked the shopkeeper to wrap it in extra layers of paper. Don’t worry — I guarantee nothing has touched it.”

Xie Jichuan looked faintly incredulous. “For me?”

“Of course.” Ming Huashang had just been confidently reassuring him, when she noticed a smear of grime on the paper wrapping. She wiped it off with embarrassment. “The inside really is clean — I honestly don’t know where that mark came from. Maybe I should just go buy again…”

But Xie Jichuan took the parcel, unusually unlike himself. “It’s fine — doesn’t matter.”

Ming Huashang breathed a sigh of relief. She chattered on: “Brother Xie, where did you stay last night? Did you sleep? Were you scared, being alone? Wasn’t keeping solo watch exhausting?”

Xie Jichuan began to understand how a person as cool and remote as Ming Huazhang had been gradually worn down and conquered by Ming Huashang — for someone who didn’t often go out into social company, she was formidably effective when she chose to be.

Xie Jichuan said, “Thanks for asking, second sister. I’ve been alone since I was small, so I don’t find being alone daunting. Keeping watch isn’t too tiring — though a touch lonely, if I’m being honest.”

At this, Ming Huashang patted Xie Jichuan on the shoulder. Xie Jichuan seemed to find in those eyes of hers something that looked like… encouragement?

Ming Huashang said seriously: “I’ll work hard. The sooner we find the killer, the sooner second elder brother and Brother Xie can get some proper rest.”

Xie Jichuan was at once amused and baffled. “Thank you, second little sister?”

“No thanks needed,” Ming Huashang said. “Last night you four didn’t sleep properly — I’m the only one who did. This is what I should do.”

Xie Jichuan tucked the parcel away, propped himself against the tree trunk, and dropped to the ground with an easy, light landing. “Huashang, you seem quite confident about cracking this case. Are you really so certain your instincts won’t fail you — that you can draw the killer’s face again as you did last time?”

Ming Huashang shook her head. Xie Jichuan had already descended, and now she felt her hands and feet were suddenly not her own. She clung to the trunk and, in a pose that was deeply undignified — essentially mimicking a tortoise — made a laborious and awkward descent.

“If it were just me alone, I couldn’t promise anything. But all of you are here — I trust in the strength of all of us together.”

Xie Jichuan raised a brow as though he found this funny. “The strength of us all together? You mean our ragtag mob?”

“Our team is not a ragtag mob.” Ming Huashang finally found her footing, and disheveled as she was after hauling herself down, those dark eyes of hers were still bright and unfaltering. “We have the best leader of all. We’re certain to succeed.”

Xie Jichuan looked at her for a long moment, then gave a quiet laugh. “He really is fortunate — to always have someone who believes in him wholeheartedly, no matter the circumstances. If he knew you trusted him this much…”

Ming Huashang was waiting for the second half of that sentence. Xie Jichuan stopped himself, and said instead, “All right — I’ve done my rescue, and I’ve received my gift. Little sister — now can you tell me what you heard just now that was worth nearly being caught for?”

Ming Huashang’s attention snapped back at once. “I was just about to tell you — I overheard the madam asking the mute about the drug.”

Xie Jichuan raised his brow. “What drug?”

“Something called Layered Dream Powder,” Ming Huashang said. “The madam was pressing the mute about how much he’d used, and seemed very anxious. I think I was right all along — there was definitely something in the wine they sent to Zhang Ziyun. Brother Xie, since the mute is outside sweeping right now, why don’t we go search his room? We might find something unexpected.”

Xie Jichuan crossed his arms, tilted his gaze down at her, a thin trace of a smile drifting in his eyes. “You really do have extraordinary nerve.”

The mute was hauling a bucket of clean water, scrubbing the main hall a second time; the madam was still carrying on with her mutterings, standing on the third floor and scolding the air; the other courtesans were either buried under their covers or tuning out the noise — nobody paid any attention to the dim, cluttered servant’s quarters at the back of the building. And naturally, nobody noticed that two shadows had slipped past the sunlight and paused at the door of one particular room to work at it for a moment, before pushing it easily open.

Xie Jichuan closed the door behind him, one eye on outside, and said, “A lot of people are awake now, and there will be even more as the morning goes on — move quickly.”

Ming Huashang didn’t answer, already throwing herself into searching.

The room was small and immediately visible from end to end. The number of places something could be hidden was limited. Ming Huashang started by the sleeping pallet, and immediately found a small, carefully folded pouch when she lifted the pillow.

She opened it carefully and found a velvet flower that had faded with age, and a yellowed small portrait.

Xie Jichuan walked over and asked, “What’s that?”

“He kept it under his pillow — he could look at it every night before he slept. It must be someone he cares for deeply.”

Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow. “Why couldn’t it be his mother, or a sister?”

Ming Huashang pointed to the old, faded velvet flower. “People who miss a mother or sister don’t keep her hair ornament to cherish like this. Brother Xie, doesn’t this portrait look familiar to you?”

Xie Jichuan was skilled in calligraphy and painting and recognized it at once: “This is the madam — or rather, the madam as she was when she was young.”

“Precisely.” Ming Huashang carefully restored the pouch to its original state and placed it back under the pillow. “They say the madam was the most celebrated top courtesan in Píng’kāng Quarter in her youth — it seems that wasn’t an exaggeration. In the mute’s eyes, she is still the same magnificent, beautiful woman she was in those days.”

Xie Jichuan had no interest in this and said coolly, “Stop paying attention to things that don’t matter — find the drug.”

Ming Huashang pulled a small box out from under the pallet and said by way of complaint, “Who says this doesn’t matter? No matter how complicated a thing is — isn’t it always built up from all the small, individual people and all the small, individual feelings inside it? This box has a lock on it and I can’t get it open.”

Xie Jichuan muttered under his breath about the nuisance of it, then crouched down to help. He produced a long, thin wire from somewhere, worked it around inside the lock, and both of them heard a faint, barely audible click.

The lock was open. Xie Jichuan lifted the lid — and looked at what was inside with a raised eyebrow and a wry half-smile. “What else would you expect from a pleasure house.”

The small wooden box was packed entirely with drugs of every description — vials and jars, paper-wrapped powders — and most critically, none of them were labeled. Ming Huashang clicked her tongue. “There are so many — how do they tell them apart?”

“Experience — after enough use, the eyes learn to identify them.” Footsteps outside were becoming more and more frequent. Xie Jichuan gave up trying to identify individual substances, took a small amount of each and transferred them into a special case, then said, “Watch the door — if something feels wrong, leave first.”

Ming Huashang hurried to the door to stand guard. As luck would have it, the servant’s quarters that were usually deserted had one visitor after another that morning, and a young maid came walking straight toward the mute’s room. “Is Master Mute in?”

Ming Huashang’s grip tightened involuntarily. Why did someone have to come at exactly this moment? The moment the maid got any closer, she’d see that the door lock was open — then what excuse could they possibly give?

Just as Ming Huashang was caught between two bad options, a loud bang came from somewhere outside. The maid yelped and hurried off in the other direction. “What happened — those were freshly washed clothes!”

Ming Huashang allowed herself to relax her fingers slightly. By now Xie Jichuan was done — he pushed the box back into place and said quietly, “Go.”

Xie Jichuan stepped out first. Ming Huashang followed close behind. As she slipped out she threw a quick glance back, and saw that the bamboo pole holding the drying laundry had toppled for some reason; the maid was picking up the mud-streaked clothing with a look of great distress, far too preoccupied to think about where she’d originally been heading.

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but Ming Huashang thought she caught a slender shadow flitting around the corner — a silhouette that was oddly familiar.

Under ordinary circumstances, one quick look would not have been enough to recognize anyone — but this particular person was too distinctive. Ming Huashang couldn’t help but pay close attention; she knew this person’s bearing and movements with absolute familiarity.

Ming Huashang frowned, startled. That was — Su Yuji?

Had it been Su Yuji who’d diverted the maid’s attention for her?

She was still puzzling over this when a cool sensation swept across her hand. She looked up — Xie Jichuan was staring at her with cold eyes. “Still drifting off? Move.”

Had Ming Huazhang been there, he would certainly have scolded both Ming Huashang and Xie Jichuan for recklessness — barging in with no plan, no escape route — and yet these two gamblers had bet correctly. Xie Jichuan took the drug powder samples to the Xuan Xiaowei’s outpost for identification, while Ming Huashang remained behind in Tiānxiāng Pavilion to continue gathering information.

Ming Huashang wandered outside for a while to maintain appearances, then strolled back into the main hall as though nothing had happened. More and more maids were moving through the building. Ming Huashang drifted around without purpose, and happened to spot a familiar face.

It was the young maid from the day before — the one who had spoken up and taken Yùqióng’s side. She was now polishing the folding screen. Ming Huashang drifted naturally over to her. “I couldn’t make it out clearly yesterday, but in full daylight this landscape screen really is extraordinarily lifelike.”

The maid looked up and saw Ming Huashang, shifting with a moment of self-consciousness. “This servant greets the honored guest.”

Ming Huashang waved a hand. “No need for ceremony — I’m just looking around. You keep on — don’t let me stop you.”

The maid dropped a respectful curtsy and rolled up her sleeves, carefully wiping the frame of the screen. “Of course it’s lifelike — Yùqióng painted it herself. What a shame these men think they understand art — coarse, boorish, not a one of them can recognize what makes this screen exceptional.”

This little maid was genuinely Yùqióng’s most devoted admirer, worked into righteous indignation even on behalf of a painting. Ming Huashang smiled awkwardly, privately thinking that she too, although not a man, was one of those crude and unremarkable souls the maid was denouncing.

She should have sent Xie Jichuan to draw information out of her instead. Ming Huashang ransacked her brain for things to say, managed to offer a few lines of praise for Yùqióng’s talent, and only when the maid began to warm up did she maneuver the conversation where she wanted. “Just now, while I was walking around Píng’kāng Quarter, I overheard someone mention a thing called Layered Dream Powder and say it could be added to wine for a certain effect. Is this something the quarter sells?”

The maid’s face changed instantly. She looked left and right, then lowered her voice. “Honored guest, you cannot drink the wine in Píng’kāng Quarter carelessly — if someone offers you a cup, do not take it.”

Ming Huashang pretended not to understand, and widened her eyes. “Why?”

The maid seemed to want to say something, then held back — and at last hinted her meaning in a roundabout way. “How do you imagine the women of Píng’kāng Quarter end up here in the first place? Do you suppose they were all born loving to serve men? Take our building for example — fewer than three in ten were born into the registered entertainment class. The rest were sold by their families, lured away by traffickers, or stripped of everything in a political collapse and sent here. When women first arrive, many of them refuse — some try to kill themselves, some fight back constantly. But a pleasure house has more than enough ways to break them in. In the end, those who couldn’t hold on died; those who survived made their peace with it.”

Ming Huashang felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She asked, “Is Layered Dream Powder one of these substances?”

“Yes,” the maid said. “It’s considered one of the stronger ones. It’s generally used to break the most resistant women — if the dosage isn’t handled carefully, accidents happen. A girl who came in at the same time as me — she was unfortunate, better-looking than me by far. The madam set her sights on her and ordered her to start taking clients. She refused. They gave her the Layered Dream Powder — but the dose was too heavy, and she died in convulsions while still unconscious.”

Ming Huashang let out a long breath, not knowing what to say. They had come to Tiānxiāng Pavilion to investigate a murder case — and yet how many cases, how many murders, had Tiānxiāng Pavilion itself committed?

Perhaps Zhang Ziyun had simply drunk wine that the madam had laced with Layered Dream Powder beforehand — and due to too heavy a dose, he had accidentally died? But then whose was the blood on him?

Ming Huashang was tempted to go confront the madam directly, but was afraid of startling the prey into flight. The maid had wiped the screen down one pass, then went to the backyard to get fresh water. Ming Huashang stood deliberating, when suddenly she gave a soft sound of surprise and crouched down to look.

At the base of the folding screen’s stand, there were, for some reason, a great many gaps and crevices, and water was seeping down through the cracks. What was this?

Ming Huashang turned it over in her mind without an answer, when from the window outside she heard a familiar bird call.

The call was clean and vigorous, the breath behind it long and steady — just like the person himself. Ming Huashang recognized it almost instantly. This was Ming Huazhang!

Second elder brother was back!